A Girl and A Curse Remastered
by dreamerdreamer
Summary: Mary is our Cinderella, who dreams of a life free of her evil step mother's clutches... however, it's not the ending one would expect, but the beginning, for after a horrible turn of events, Mary is on the run and soon encounters a mysterious castle where her story transcends the world of fairy tales and unites them. A Beauty and the Beast retelling and remastered from original.
1. Chapter 1

Every night I dream the same dream: I see him. He is a stranger with a young face, young like me, but with the distinct signs of growing etched into his features. His hazel eyes are filled with pain. They remind me of my own. The stranger is screaming in my dream, and I can't take it. I listen to his screams but cannot understand his words. I try to reach out to him, to respond with my own voice, but then I wake up, sometimes I'm screaming too. There is no resolution to this dream; no answers hidden in the images and sounds.

Sometimes I think the boy I dream about is really me. Why is he screaming? Because he is alone. Because he needs help. Because his step mother has taken everything away from him—his past, his future, his very dreams.

At least, that's what happened to me. And that's all I know.

* * *

It was the third time I slipped upon the stone steps that morning, and this time I could feel pain began to bloom in my knee where the two other bruises throbbed. The sudsy water in the bucket spilled down the steps, and I had reached over to grab it and lost my footing, hitting the edge of the step with my knees and shins. I clenched my teeth together to keep from yelling out in pain. If I woke up my step sisters or mother at this hour, their wrath would follow me for the remainder of the day. Every day was a decent day that I was able to avoid them, chores or no chores.

Scrubbing the tower stairs was only my first task for the day, followed by feeding the chickens and horses, preparing breakfast, running our produce stand at the market, picking up fabric from the seamstress, preparing dinner, and then cleaning out the fireplace. Lorna, my step-mother, said that my chores allowed me to be safe; if there were no chores to do, what would she need me for? Nothing. She would simply have to get rid of me if I were of no use. And I would never see the trust my father left me when he died.

"You are an orphan now, Mary," Lorna told me when he passed. "Do you know what that means?"

I couldn't respond for the tears constricting my throat as I held my father's hand in mine, all life gone from his eyes.

"It means you are alone in the world," she continued without waiting for an answer. "This house and all the things in it now belong to me. If you want to stay here, you will take on our servant's role until you come of age to inherit your father's trust."

I was twelve then; only eight years to go. And since then, for the past five years I have woken up before dawn to begin my daily round of chores while Lorna and her two daughters run my father's household.

I could see the first beams of sunlight through the bedroom window in the tower—that's where I slept. My old room was given to Didi and Anna—not them, but all of their things like, like clothes, jewelry, chests of knick knacks and things they never paid attention to. I stealthily ascended the stairs to retrieve a towel to dry off the steps. I smiled in spite of the pain in my knee—the new birds in the tree next to my window were signing again. And just then, the bells from the King's castle began to sound off, summoning the village to rise to the occasion of the day. I made my way silently down to the stable with buckets of food hanging from my arms.

The sleepy village began to come to life; I could hear the sounds of the bustle over the gates. As I fed the old horse his breakfast I contemplated my tasks for the day—maybe, just maybe if I finished them early and there was still an hour or so left before sunset, I could go to the library and return the book I had just finished. The story had been frightening, and I couldn't take my eyes off each page until I finished it. Books were one of the only things that helped me forget about my life—the chores, the tower, the servitude. It wasn't born into this life, but I inherited it nonetheless.

 _Three more years_ , I reminded myself. Three more years and I will receive my father's inheritance and title. I will take the money and leave—walk, even; take the road to the sea and never look back.

"Soon," I whispered out loud. My thoughts were promptly interrupted by the shrill echoes of the servant's bell. Lorna's breakfast was already late.

I rushed into the kitchen and threw eggs onto the skillet over the fire. Old Mia, the cook who served my father and mother since they were first married, still worked in the household, now under Lorna's management. She was the only person in the world who loved me.

"Good morning," she sighed, resting her withered arms upon the edge of the sink. She had already lain out the day's ingredients upon the prep table.

"Lorna's up early," I noted with dismay, pushing the eggs around the skillet with a wooden spoon.

"She is expecting a guest tonight," Old Mia replied. "Someone by the name of Lord Terrowin, I believe?"

I shrugged, plopping the eggs onto a platter beside some sliced bread and butter. 'Never heard of him. This would be—what, her ninth suitor this year? Have they all run for the hills?"

Old Mia laughed knowingly. "My girl, watch your tongue! Even in here with me. You do not need an ounce more abuse then she's already dealing you."

I sighed and layered Lorna's and my step-sisters' breakfast platters on my arms. "Nine is a lot," I replied coolly. "Just making an observation."

Old Mia winked as I made my way out into the dining hall which was empty. Lorna and my step-sisters only eat breakfast in their beds. Luckily, I had gotten the skill of climbing the stairs with trays full of hot food down to an art form. I only dropped them once before, when I saw a mouse scurry past me down the stairs.

"What took you so long?" Lorna asked as I sat her platter onto her bed. Her icy blue eyes were pale in the morning light.

"My apologies," I said quickly, "I did not know you were to be preparing for a guest today."

Her lips curled into a peculiar smirk as she brought her tea up to her nose for a whiff. "He is a very important guest. You will need to prepare the dining room by polishing the table and floor as well as washing the tapestries."

I clenched my teeth together to prevent my jaw from falling to the floor. Polish the floor and wash the tapestries? That would probably take all day, on top of my other chores.

"Did I say something to upset you?" she asked testily.

I shook my head, avoiding eye contact with her as I collected her dirty laundry from the basket. "I will take care of it."

"Yes, you will," she said calmly. I could hear the smirk in her voice. "Unless of course, you had other plans? What were they?"

"No plans," I said quietly.

She chuckled softly. "Of course not. Run along now, you have much to do today."

I dropped off the remaining breakfast platters in my step-sisters' room. They were still sleeping- Anna and Didi never woke up before noon. And then they did nothing all day.

"I have to go," I said hurriedly to Old Mia, sliding the dirty dishes into the sink, "Lorna's given me all of this work to do today because of her guest. I need to get to the seamstress and then the market-"

"I'll go to the market," Old Mia interrupted, placing her hand on my arm. "You'll have time to do everything else."

I hugged her tightly. "Thanks so much," I whispered. "I owe you. See you soon!"

I slipped into my shoes, grabbed my bag, and ran out of the house. The cobblestoned path that led from the front door to the front gate was becoming overgrown with weeds, I noted to myself. Maybe I could weed it real quick after going to the library, if I still had time to do that—

 _Oof!_

Someone had been standing at the gate when I opened it and rushed out; I promptly whacked into them with a startled yelp. Strong hands steadied me; I looked up into the hard face of none other than one of the King's guards, shiny in his silver cape. A brim-hatted messenger stood beside him, holding a scroll.

"I'm sorry," I gasped. "I didn't see you-"

"We're looking for Lady Mary. Is this her household? Are you her servant?" the messenger asked.

I stared at him blankly. "What?"

The messenger and cloaked guard exchanged wary glances.

"Lady Mary," he repeated. "Does she live here? This is a notice from the King." The messenger brandished a sealed scroll in his grasp.

"I'm Mary," I said. "But the lady of this household is Lorna."

The messenger sighed. "The scroll is addressed to Lady Mary. If that is your name and you live here, then this is yours." He passed it into my hands and the pair mounted two waiting horses on the street and trotted away, leaving me standing there with the scroll in my hand.

Snapping into action, I hastily closed the gate and took off down the street. I waited until I got to the seamstress's store before opening the letter. Standing in the morning sunlight outside of the shop, I broke the seal and unraveled the paper. It was an invitation.

 _Addressing Lady Mary, first born daughter of Sir Thomas North,_

 _The King welcomes you to his home in honor of his first born son, the Prince Stefan's eighteenth birthday. It is upon this occasion that Stefan will be formally introduced to the eligible ladies of this kingdom, girls whose names were submitted at birth for this opportunity. Dress in your finest before the King and Prince and please arrange transportation to and from the palace._

 _Best wishes,_

 _King Peter_

I folded the invitation as small as I could and dropped it into my bag and stared at the ground for a long moment.

Me, a lady? Invited to meet the prince? How could it be? There had to be some mistake—Lorna would find out. I would be punished.

I paid the seamstress for Didi and Anna's new dresses in a daze, and returned home to hang them up for Lorna's inspection. Then, I waited for Old Mia to return from the market before pulling her into the stable, showing her the letter.

"How could this be?" I whispered.

She read it carefully and nodded. "There is no mistake this is for you. Your mother and father put your name on that list the day you were born. I was there when they did it. You have been destined to meet the prince all of your life."

My stomach turned uneasily in disbelief and awe. "What do I do?"

"You _go_ of course!" she said a little too loudly.

"Ssshh!" I urged her. "Lorna would never allow it."

Old Mia shrugged. "Then she can't know. But she can't stop you from going—this is a summons from the King himself!"

"It's tomorrow night," I said in disbelief. "I don't know how I could pull it off—and I have nothing to wear to the palace! I live in servant's clothes, because I am a servant."

Old Mia gently lifted my chin so our eyes met. "You were born a Lady, and still are. Lorna has no authority to take away your title. It is your right to go to the ball. And you are wrong—you have a dress. Your mother left you her wedding gown, remember? It is stored away in a box in the attic."

My heart skipped a beat. I had completely forgotten about that dress—the one Lorna had somehow never gotten her hands on. It was mine. Long, silvery, and small like my mother. Like me.

"I have to think," I said. "Lorna can't know about this."

Old Mia nodded. "Don't worry about her. Today I will go up into the attic and find the dress, and I will put it in your room. Keep it hidden and I will take care of the rest."

Just then, the servant bell rang out shrilly from the house.

"That'll be Madame wondering why the tapestries haven't been washed yet," I said with a groan. "This Lord Terrowin must be quite an honored guest."

"He's come just in time," said Old Mia. "He will no doubt provide the perfect distraction. Now go -and don't forget it: you are a Lady. Chores or no chores."

So I got to work, basking in my new dreams. Would I really be going to the palace the following night? Meeting the prince, as if I had a chance to actually be someone? And I knew this was all real—my dreams never changed. I dreamed of the stranger; the boy who screams out loud the way I scream inside. No, this was real. And simply too good to be true.

* * *

 _Hello readers. Many of you probably read the first version of this story-where Cinderella becomes Belle and our Prince Charming becomes the Beast. This is a very similar story, but rewritten and polished version of the old one. Some events and things may change, but overall it is written for the purpose of being a better version of the old one that was pretty popular. Please leave feedback if you have thoughts about the story._


	2. Chapter 2

I stood in silence as Lorna inspected the dining room table, floor, and tapestries for signs of dust. She was dressed up in an evening gown with a fur wrap draped over her shoulders, even though it wasn't even cold outside. Summer had dawned just the week before.

I could hear Old Mia bustling about the kitchen, preparing a five course meal for dinner. Somewhere above me in my room, she had already hidden my mother's dress. I hadn't looked for it yet.

"The tapestries have faded considerably," Lorna noted with distaste. "They must be replaced."

"I can sell them in the market Saturday morning," I said. "And use that money to find new ones."

She snickered coldly. "No one wants _these_ ," she said. "Besides. You will be going on a trip this weekend."

She caught me off guard. I looked up at her in surprise.

"What is that look for?" she said indignantly. "You are almost eighteen now. Surely you haven't forgotten that you are still a burden upon this household? No, it will not do to keep you here when you are of marrying age."

"I beg your pardon?"

She fixed her icy blue eyes onto me and smiled calmly. "Our guest tonight, Lord Terrowin, has connections to the royal family, and has so secured an invitation for the girls to attend the Prince's ball and meet Prince Stefan tomorrow night. In exchange for this opportunity, I have agreed to your betrothal and so you will be leaving with him Saturday morning to live on his estate."

My heart dropped into my stomach and I steadied myself. "I—I can't marry a stranger," was all I could say, my voice coming out meek and frightened sounding.

Lorna's eyes were full of happy cruelty. "Of course you can," she said. "There are worse fates, I assure you."

I shook my head. "No."

"Excuse me?"

I shook my head even harder. "No," I repeated. "You can't make me do something like that."

"You are such an ingrate," she snapped. "He is a lord with a title and a home and money and he has offered to take you off my hands and it is the best thing that will ever happen to you, I can guarantee that, girl. Now get back to your chores. He will be arriving in a couple of hours and I don't want you in our sight."

"I'm not marrying him," I said steadily. "I'm a lady, and I don't need a lord, or some stranger. I'm not a cow to be bargained over. My father would never allow this!"

Lorna had been waiting for me to say that. Her canine teeth poked out sharply from her smile. "Well dear, it happens to be that your father is dead. I told you once that you were alone in this world; now you will have a husband. You should be on your knees thanking me for this, but you are just a lowly brat. In any case, the deal has been sealed. You will be leaving Saturday morning."

If I were holding a plate, I would've thrown it onto the floor, smashing it into a thousand pieces. I would've looked Lorna in the eyes and told her I am not doing any such thing. Tomorrow night, I would be going to the ball and meeting the Prince. After that, she would never see me again.

But I said nothing, because I simply didn't believe it. Lorna had won again. I was going to be someone else's slave now, legally bound for life. Sharp pangs of despair tremored through me and she chuckled again as she saw my composure crack.

"Don't make a mess of yourself," she said, "you will also be attending dinner tonight to meet Lord Terrowin. If he doesn't like you, then our deal will fall through. And then you'd be on the streets, Mary. You don't want that—do you?"

How could I have ever believed that going to the Prince's ball would be possible, let alone life changing? Didi and Anna were destined to meet the prince—not me. I was destined to be married off to a stranger like the nobody I truly am.

" _Well do you?_ " Lorna repeated loudly.

I couldn't stop the hot tears from welling into my eyes, nor could I stop them from streaming down to my cheeks. Lorna had seen me cry before anyway.

"Go to your room," she ordered.

I turned on my heel and fled for the stairs. Her words followed me to the top of the tower—"And be prepared to meet Lord Terrowin by nightfall!"

I slammed my door shut and locked it. I screamed into my pillow as loud as I could. I half suffocated myself before calming down enough to breathe again. It wasn't for a long time that I snapped out of it—one thought surfaced to my mind.

 _The dress._

I found it wrapped neatly and discreetly under my bed where Old Mia had hidden it. Carefully, I unwrapped it and held it out before me.

 _It's like I'm holding my mother_ , I thought strangely, my eyes travelling up and down the silvery fabric. She had worn it when she married my father—he always told me how beautiful she was, like a girl in a dream.

 _A dream._

I carefully folded it and put it back into its hiding spot. My normal wardrobe consisted of plain work clothes—rough blouses, worn skirts, stained aprons and my beat-up slip on shoes. Lord Terrowin would not be impressed with me if he saw me for who I really am, wearing what I normally wear. How could Lorna think I'd make a good bride for a lord?

And so the remainder of the day fell away while I sat on my window sill and gazed out at the King's castle that loomed over the village. You could see it from almost anywhere in the city—it was large, and built upon a hill so the highest towers stretched into the sky and disappeared in the clouds.

Eventually, Lorna rapped loudly upon my door. "Start getting dressed for dinner," she said curtly from outside the tower, "and do something with your hair."

As I lit a candle in my room, I heard voices outside. I peeked out of my window down below into the yard. Someone was being admitted through the gates! I squinted down into the shadowy garden, trying to get a glimpse of him—but the man was shrouded in a dark cloak as he led his horse to our stable.

 _Lord Terrowin has arrived_ , I realized.

An hour passed before Didi and Anna appeared at my door, their faces hardly able to contain their smirks.

"Your husband is here," Didi said brightly, taking my arm.

"He is waiting to meet you in the dining room," said Anna, taking my other arm. They were dressed in nice evening gowns for the occasion—the ones I had only just picked up from the seamstress. I had stopped crying hours ago, and now I only felt numb. The sisters chatted animatedly as we descended the stairs, and I moved my feet and my body accordingly, but I had left my mind and heart upstairs, with my mother's dress hidden under the bed. The one I was going to wear tomorrow night to the Prince's ball.

Lorna and Lord Terrowin stood before the grand fireplace in the dining hall, their shadows long and hauntingly spread across the floor. Lord Terrowin turned to face me when I approached.

He was a tall and bony man with a stony face and shadowy eyes. His head was bald on top, eventually giving way to scraggly grey hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore a long, dark coat.

"This is Mary," said Lorna by way of introduction. I said nothing as Lord Terrowin's eyes locked onto mine. He seemed to be surveying me—as if looking for something, but his lips remained pursed together. Finally, he nodded.

We all sat down as Old Mia covered the table with the first course of soup and bread. Lorna perched at the head of the table and chatted to Lord Terrowin about the Prince's ball the following night.

"This one will provide you with domestic labor for the rest of your days," she was saying, "and so you see it's only fair that you walk us to the gates tomorrow night to ensure entry to the ball. You did say you are a distant cousin of the King's?"

Lord Terrowin nodded vaguely, glancing towards me. I averted my eyes. I didn't like feeling his gaze on me. There was something particularly strange about him.

"Good," Lorna continued jovially, "then it is for sure that my daughters will meet the prince. What's that boy's name again?"

"Prince Stefan, mother," said Anna.

"Prince Stefan," Lorna repeated. "Yes. I remember hearing about his father, King Peter, back in the day. The king would disappear for months at a time and suddenly return, always bringing mysterious stories and rumors with him. It is a strange family. So Lord Terrowin, what is it you do in the country?"

Lord Terrowin's cold lips twitched into a half smile. "I'm a hunter."

Lorna gasped in fake joy and cast me a beaming smile. "Oh Mary, see, you are in for an exciting life!"

I just sat there staring at my plate. By the third course I felt sick to my stomach and excused myself to the kitchen. Old Mia wrapped me in a tight, wordless hug.

"She's going to throw me out," I whispered. "If I don't leave with Lord Terrowin."

"When is he leaving?"

"The morning after the ball. Lorna wants to ensure he will get Didi and Anna inside to meet the prince," I said.

"You're going to that ball," Old Mia said firmly, closing the kitchen door behind her. "Forget about the rest. Now get back out there and don't believe for a second that you are marrying that man. Not before you meet the prince."

So I returned to the dining hall and took my seat. And from that point on, when I glanced towards Lord Terrowin, I didn't feel fear. The secret inside of me was ripening slowly, and I dare not speak to accidentally let it out.

* * *

Before I knew it, the sun was high up in the sky and I was late to begin my chores.

I rushed down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Lorna and her daughters, my hands whirring in front of me in distracted movements.

I was going to the ball that night, and they couldn't stop me. Then I would be free. I didn't know how, but I trusted it would happen, and the idea strengthened me as the despair from the day before was chased away with hope.

Up in their rooms, Anna and Didi were buzzing with excitement, trying on their finest gowns in front of a mirror and chattering endlessly about meeting Prince Stefan.

"Who do you think he will choose, between the two of us?" Anna asked as she wrapped a long string of pearls around her neck. I discreetly set their breakfast platters down by the window.

"Well, you are the first born," Didi conceded glumly, "but your feet are huge. Why would the prince wants a princess with huge feet?"

Anna smacked Didi hard across the arm with her paper fan. "How dare you," she snapped. 'And besides, he won't be seeing my feet beneath my gown, but unless you plan on wearing a mask, how do you plan on hiding your hideous nose?"

Didi growled like a lion and pounced on her sister, grabbing her puffy sleeves in her fist and ripping it wildly. Anna shrieked, "Get off me, you're ruining my dress!"

They scrambled apart, faces red. Anna's sleeve was ripped clean off her shoulder. She charged over to the mirror to assess the damage and let out a howl of despair.

" _Mother! Mother!_ " she cried. "Mother come quickly!"

I was halfway through the door when Lorna stormed in, knocking past me. "What is it?"

"Didi ruined my dress!" Anna howled.

I stifled my laughter as I darted out of their bedroom and downstairs to finish my chores. The plan was to remain calm and busy with my work as to not alert Lorna or the step-sisters of my secret. It was noon; only an afternoon remained between me and the prince's ball.

* * *

At five o'clock I helped Old Mia serve Lorna and the step-sisters their supper before the ball. Anna's dress had been changed out to one with short green sleeves and a trail of golden roses. Didi was wearing a simpler blue gown with sparkles on the bosom. I served them their lite supper of cucumber sandwiches in my serving clothes, wondering what shoes of theirs I could borrow to wear with my mother's silver dress.

"Eat quickly now girls," Lorna was saying to them, "Lord Terrowin will be arriving within the hour with a carriage. You'll need time to get the food out of your teeth before we leave. And we're supposed to be the first guests there."

"Mother," said Anna, munching on a sandwich, "I heard the ball doesn't start until after sun down. We will look stupid hanging outside the palace gates."

Lorna's eyes flared in annoyance. "You hush. I don't care what it looks like to everyone else, as long as you are the first girls the prince sets his eyes on. You will remain by his side the entire night. Do you understand?"

The sisters nodded silently.

"And you," said Lorna, catching my wrist in her grip as I reached for her plate, "tonight you will pack all of your belongings. Lord Terrowin insists you will be leaving at dawn."

She stared at me, waiting for an answer, and when I gave none she tightened her grip on me quickly before letting go.

"As soon as they leave I will get the horse ready," Old Mia whispered when I returned to the kitchen. "You focus on getting dressed."

I nodded silently and retreated to my tower, watching for Lord Terrowin to return with the carriage. As the city bell rang out deeply six times and the sun became low in the sky, a carriage entered the courtyard swiftly and stopped before the front door. A few minutes later, Didi and Anna came bustling out and clamored into the carriage. I turned my face toward the palace. It glowed and twinkled golden in the falling dusk. It radiated in the distance, like a jewel in the dark. My heart ached to look at it. Glancing back down, I saw the carriage disappear through the gates and out onto the street.

 _It's time._

I had my wash basin prepared, though the water had long gone cool. I washed quickly, combing the many knots from my hair until it shined down my back. I scrubbed dirt and soot from my feet, legs, and nails. I patted myself dry and stood before the warm evening air hanging through my opened window. Then, I slipped on my mother's dress and looked in the mirror.

 _This isn't you_ , I thought to myself. I was staring at myself, though it felt like I was gazing at a stranger. Someone I simply could never be.

 _It would've been me though, if my parents hadn't died. If Lorna hadn't taken everything from me._

Why _can't_ this be me?

The girl in the mirror smiled in response.

And then suddenly, my bedroom door swung open. Lorna stood in the doorway, her eyes wide in recognition.

"What are you doing?"

I froze. Hadn't she gone with her daughters to the ball? Hadn't I just seen them leave?

She stepped inside, her eyes raking over my mother's dress.

"Where did you get that dress?"

I swallowed hard, though my throat had collapsed in on itself. "My—it's my mother's-"

"It is not," she interrupted furiously, "you are a thief! Take it off at once!"

My hands were shaking, but I didn't move. I couldn't move.

"Did you hear me, girl? Take it off, or I'll have you arrested and thrown in jail!"

"I'm going to the ball!" I erupted. "And I'm wearing this dress, and I have an invitation—you cannot stop me from going, by law!"

Lorna put her fist to her heart, her mouth hanging open in shock. In her other hand she grasped a dark rag.

"Did you really think you I would let you do that?" she said softly. A cruel smiled formed on her lips. "You have an early day tomorrow, my dear. I have come to arrange your bedtime."

She moved towards me, and I backed away. "Mia!" I cried, hoping she would somehow hear my voice and come to my aid. Lorna kicked my door shut and lunged towards me, pushing me down hard onto my bed. I tried to wrestle out of her grasp, but then she put that rag up to my face, pressing it roughly against my nose and mouth. As my oxygen was cut off, I breathed in a strong odor that sent lights flashing through my brain.

"Go to sleep," Lorna was saying, but her words seemed to be falling away.

I gasped for air as she removed the rag. The room around me began to darken. I reached out, trying to steady myself to my feet. And then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

King Peter led his steed into the kingswood just as the sun began to sink in the sky, leaving long shadows imprinted upon the forest. He left his personal guard behind as he followed a familiar dirt path down the vast hill of which his city sat upon. He was on a sensitive mission: finding his son.

Stefan had his mother's strong-willed spirit, and his father's wanderlust. It was this combination that worried King Peter the most. _The boy is just like me_ , he thought, watching the prince grow. _He wants to see the world,_ _not rule a piece of it._ Stefan was the natural born heir to the kingdom; he had no more choice in the matter of succeeding than the King himself had. And the King was sorry, but raising Stefan to inherit the kingdom was his single most important duty.

 _He will be late to his own damn ball_ , thought the King with great annoyance. _I knew I'd have to come down here. He is testing me again._

Just ahead on the path King Peter could hear the clashing of swords and occasional shouting over the ringing. The horse quietly proceeded through a maze of trees to an open area of the wood. The prince was sparring with his friends, his gold-threaded doublet thrown into the dirt, replaced with mud-stained armor. Two other boys sang the song of steel, oblivious of the king's presence.

Stefan was a skilled fighter for his age, the king knew. He was light on his feet and quick thinking. But mostly, he had an insatiable passion burning with him; a fire the king could not extinguish, for it was the same he had flaming within himself. Stefan had an affinity for battle, but also for play. _Never for royal duties_. The king had trouble on his hands.

"Enough!" King Peter thundered, emerging from the trees. The two sparring boys came to a frantic halt. Stefan glanced warily at his father.

"Leave us," the king commanded. The boys immediately disappeared up the path out of the wood. Stefan stood silently, catching his breath, waiting for his father's words to come down on him like a storm.

"What are you doing out here sparring when your ball is about to begin?" The king asked his son.

Stefan took off his helmet and dropped it onto the ground. His brown hair was matted against is face and neck. "I followed a bird to this spot. It promised you wouldn't find me here."

The king sighed. "Yet this is always where I find you. The sooner you get back up to the castle and ready for this engagement, the sooner it will be over. Everyone has to do things in life that they don't want to do."

"Especially if you're born a prince," Stefan replied bitterly. "I never asked to have this ball. I'm not ready to take your place, father."

"You won't take my place for many years to come," the king lied to his son. "But you will be betrothed by the end of this year. It is the law."

Stefan could barely stomach the idea of this ball, yet he had known it was coming all of his life. It was the most famous ball in the world; he would be introduced formally to hundreds of eligible girls that had waited all their lives to attend. Every year his parents threw a ball for is birthday, and they were embarrassing enough, but this ball all eyes would be on him, for he would have to choose a girl. Everyone was expecting it. Stefan had hardly spoken to a girl outside of his family—the school he attended was an all-boy's boarding school. How could his father possibly think he could choose a wife from one single encounter at a horrible, stuffy ball? Why didn't his father ever think of him as just a son—not a pawn, not a prince, not an heir, but as a person?

"I'll head up in an hour," Stefan told the king. "I'm going for a walk."

 _He is going to sulk_ , the king realized. _Anything to defy me._

"I will see you cleaned, dressed, and in high spirits in the great hall at seven o'clock," the king said curtly. "If you're late, I will cancel the next summer hunting trip. Mark my words!"

Stefan gazed stonily at him as his father retreated back up the path. The sun was now much lower in the sky, and the muggy evening air was thick and stifling. Stefan could smell the storm approaching in the distance, and it offered him comfort.

 _Let it rain_ , he thought. _Rain brings new beginnings._

* * *

The first thing I realized was pain. My waking was slow and deliberate; the fog was clearing and the memories forming.

 _Lorna did this_ , I thought.

I was on the floor beside my bed, but the room was swaying like a ship in the high seas. I clutched at the stone floor, holding on and willing it to stop.

 _Lorna made me sick. But why? Why did she attack me?_

I felt a horrible pull in my stomach and began to violently dry wretch. My room was dark now; how long had I been out for? Anxious questions began to flood through my brain.

 _I need to leave this place. Now._

I hoisted myself onto my bed and rested my head on the pillow. I was surprised that it soon became wet, for I did not realize I was crying. Not from the mysterious, dull pain and shock in my body, but from something nameless. The night was quiet and heavy, and I breathed.

A voice near me spoke from the darkness. "She must pay the price for what she did."

I sat up, clinging tightly to the bed mattress. "Who's there?"

A small, golden light hovered over the window ledge. Its shine illuminated like a flash of lightning; and suddenly, there stood a mysterious woman with long white hair wearing a small crown of dark crystals. The lady smiled calmly. "I am Pandora. Your mother sent for me many years ago. She told me to be with you on this night. I am your fairy godmother."

I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "My mother sent you? But she died when I was born. No one told me of a godmother-"

Pandora laughed, her voice like tiny ringing bells. "Do not be upset, Mary. I'm here to help you. It appears your stepmother has made a fateful decision tonight."

I swallowed hard, trying to ease the pain in my throat and stomach. I realized I was still wearing my mother's silver gown. How ironic.

"You know why she attacked me?" I asked.

Pandora looked at me with sadness in her eyes. "Mortals often have more than one reason behind the things they do. It is beside the point; Lorna must pay the price for her decision, and you must attend a ball. Do you understand?"

I didn't understand; how could I?

"I'm not meant to go to the ball," I told her. "It's probably almost over by now anyway."

Her smile was like moon beams. "The hour is still early, my dear Mary. I promised your mother I'd get you there, and so I will. But first things first: we choose."

"What must I choose?"

The fairy moved closer to me. "You must choose to go tonight and to never return, to never look back. If you come back, you will be cursed. Here," she produced a small glass vile from her dress. "you will need this to get past your stepmother. She is guarding the front door."

I stared at the small glass vile in my hand. "What is it?"

"Does it matter?" the fairy asked.

I didn't know what to say.

"It will help your stepmother rest tonight," Pandora explained. "Go to the kitchen and pour it into her tea. Then, you can meet me in the garden." Here, she smiled brilliantly. "I believe you have a ball to attend."

* * *

The house was quiet, so I tiptoed down the stairs carefully. The kitchen was occupied only by a small fire glowing in the hearth. Upon the serving table was Lorna's tea set—and, how strange—a fresh pot of tea steaming silently upon the tray.

I stood over the teapot with the glass vile and allowed myself to wonder if I was making a terrible mistake. After all, I didn't even know what was inside of it. The fairy said it would help Lorna sleep—but how did sleeping make up for her attacking me? How did my mother know I would need a fairy godmother's help on this very night?

 _You were meant to go to that ball, it is your destiny_ , the fairy had assured me. _Will you let one evil act change your fate?_

 _No_ , I thought _. Not a chance_.

I poured the contents of the vile into the teapot and made my way out into the back garden by the stable. Pandora was waiting for me by the pumpkin patch.

"Sweet Mary," she said, taking my hands, "How beautiful you look tonight. You are the image of your mother. She was strong, like you, and had the talent of enchanting everyone in her presence—even without magic! Know this: you are the same. And don't forget it."

My stomach felt weak again as tears rose to my eyes. _I wish she were here now,_ I thought. This night was not how I had imagined it would be.

Pandora gently raised my chin with her fingers. "How about a carriage for a princess?"

She turned and knelt down beside the group of pumpkins. From within the folds of her dress she produced a crystal wand, and it glowed as she waved it over a fat, healthy pumpkin. I gasped and stumbled backwards as the pumpkin immediately began to transform—it enlarged itself slowly, growing wider and taller, its color changing from burnt orange to polished wood. In an instant, an ornately decorated carriage occupied the courtyard.

Before I could voice my surprise, Pandora waved her hand at the old gander that lived beside our well. It promptly came waddling over and hopped into her open arms. I watched as the fairy planted a kiss on the gander's head, and in a flash it stood as a man, dressed in a coachman's clothes. He smiled and bowed in front of me. "My lady," he murmured. "I will see you safely to the ball tonight."

I could've fainted; what other impossibilities hid behind the next corner?

"No shoes?" Pandora asked, noticing my bare feet. I had completely forgotten about having no shoes to wear. I lifted up the silvery dress and glanced at Pandora. "How about these?" she asked, waving her wand over my feet. They came from nothing; glass slippers, fitted perfectly onto my feet.

"I don't know how to thank you for helping me," I said. "I'm afraid that this is a dream—you, the magic, this night. What will I do if I wake up and it never happened?"

Pandora gazed at me curiously. After a long moment, she said, "Remember. If you return here, you will be cursed. After tonight you cannot look back."

I ventured to ask, "Why?"

"Fairy magic is governed by very old laws," Pandora said calmly. "Every decision yields consequences; they cannot always be explained or understood. After tonight, your fate will finally be back in your hands. I advise you to venture forth wisely."

I would go, I decided. I would leave town without a trace and travel far enough away to somewhere Lorna nor Lord Terrowin could ever find me. _I will be free._

"I understand." I assured the fairy.

She beamed. The night was muggy, but the air began to feel lighter. "Now, take a look at yourself in the mirror. Then you can tell me if you're ready to go to the ball." Here she held out a mirror with a silver handle. When I looked into it, I was again taken aback.

The girl in the mirror was not me.

She was beautiful; dressed in silver radiance, her appearance confident and alluring. "It's not me," I said.

"It is," said Pandora. It is the real you. Everyone will see the real you tonight, if you have the courage to show them."

Her words gave me courage. In the distance, a rumble of thunder echoed through the forest.

"It's past time," Pandora said. "you must be on your way now."

Sir Gander, who was just previously a lazy yard goose, helped me into the carriage which had previously been a regular pumpkin. He had already prepared the old horse, Luc, to take the carriage. My glass slippers were curiously comfortable, I realized.

"Thank you," I told Pandora through the window. "You saved my life."

There was a special twinkle in the fairy's eye. "There's one more thing," she said. Through the window, she passed me a silken wrapped parcel. "To keep you warm. Farwell, Mary!"

The carriage began to move, making its way out of the courtyard and past the gates to a home I would never return to again. I unwrapped the silk; it was a cloak, beautiful and iridescent as a pearl, with silver clasps, deep pockets, and a large hood. I hugged it to me as the carriage bounced along the street, ascending the hill that led to the king's castle. Above me, the clouds had shifted and the stars finally showed through the hanging midnight curtain. I looked up at the moon and briefly wondered what price Lorna had paid for my freedom.

What price would _I_ pay?


	4. Chapter 4

Prince Stefan stood poised upon the dais in the great hall, where stretched before him a line of twenty waiting girls buzzed with anticipation. Behind him were his father and mother's unoccupied thrones, and beside him stood his very best friend, Marius, who was allowed to join him on the dais as a special honor. The hour was nine o'clock, and Stefan had already greeted dozens of guests. The procedure was to formally introduce himself to them one by one, and to promise a dance with the ones closest to his age—it would be impossible to dance with every guest in one night. Stefan was terrified to dance with twenty strange girls—he wondered, _what did they even think of him?_ What did anyone think of him? Who besides himself was forced to be paraded around in front of thousands of people on his birthday?

"She seemed nice," Marius murmured supportively. The previous girl wafted off into the crowd, her cheeks burning red after stumbling over her own name. Stefan didn't hear him, he was too busy fighting the muscles in his face to suppress a yawn. Yawning in front of guests would land him in hot water with his father, even if he were actually tired.

"Thanks for doing this with me," Stefan whispered in reply as the next girl prepared to introduce herself. "I think I trust your judgment more than my own."

"That's because I'm the smart one," said Marius, his mop of curly hair bouncing as he laughed.

A dark haired girl in a yellow dress stepped up and curtsied deeply. Stefan's automatic smile stretched across his face as she stood to face him. When she opened her mouth to say her name, though, barely a peep came out.

"Pardon?" Stefan said, leaning slightly forward to hear her better.

She blushed furiously and was just about to repeat herself when the girl standing behind her in line inserted herself between them.

"Umm," she began, her grin wide and frightening, "My name is Anna. I was the first one here today, you know. Waiting to meet you! My sister Didi—" she gestured to her sister standing in the line, "and I were sent to the back for a silly reason, but we should have met you first. The invitation says you have to dance with every girl, doesn't it?"

Stefan, speechless, exchanged a glance with Marius. Doing his duty, Marius stepped forward.

"Sorry, what was your name again? And why are you cutting in line?"

Anna's eyebrows drew close together in a scowl. "I'm not cutting in line—I was the first one here! I just said that. I've been waiting to meet the prince for _hours,_ you know!"

The original girl too quiet to speak stormed away into the crowd. Marius quickly followed her.

"I am sorry for any inconvenience," Stefan said to Anna, "and yes, you're right. I have to dance with all the guests."

"Well, I've been here the longest," said Anna, "so it's my turn now!"

Just then, DiDi darted forward, shouldering Anna out of the way. "No she hasn't, _I_ have! I got here before her and so it's _my_ turn!"

"Whoa—whoa," Stefan said, stepping forward, "there's no need to fight-"

It was too late; the sisters were now slapping at each other, caught up in the heat of the moment from an argument that had no doubt lasted hours. In their struggle, one of the sisters nearly ran into the prince. Stefan's guard, Lance, stepped in to defuse the situation.

Marius returned, shaking his head. "The girl's name was—wait, what's going on here?"

Anna was in the middle of reaching forward, her arms sprawling around Lance, grabbing at her sister's long beaded necklace. The necklace snapped and beads exploded in the air and fell to the floor with a clatter.

Stefan palmed his face in frustration, rubbing his temples. "I can't do this."

Marius clapped him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Go. I'll take over for you."

The prince hesitated, unsure.

Marius shrugged. "It's your birthday! Your father is long gone, and I haven't seen your mother tonight. Who's gonna tell?"

Stefan grinned. "Okay. Just for a quick break, though. I'll be back." The wide doors leading to the garden were inviting; so Stefan ducked out for a breath of fresh air.

* * *

Above me, the castle illuminated golden light into the night sky—and music poured out from over its walls, adorning the humid night air with a sprightly melody. I had never before been so drawn to a place. The evening was full of magic: I could feel it everywhere.

Sir Gander had gifted me a full bloomed, red rose, and I tucked it into my hair for sake-keeping. Then, he took the carriage away until I was ready to leave, and so there I stood at the castle gates, the invitation addressed to me clutched in my trembling hands. I approached the posted guards, trying not to feel like an imposter. _The invitation says MY name,_ I reminded myself.

The guards checked my invitation without a word and ushered me onto the pathway leading to the castle entrance. The castle interior was composed of towering white walls, enormous crystal chandeliers, hundreds of candles flickering among the hundreds of people in the hall standing on a vast, endless stretch of marble. My glass slippers made a peculiar noise as I walked slowly across the marble floor.

 _I made it_ , I thought in disbelief. _I actually made it._

And there, up ahead on the dais stood a boy who was undoubtedly the prince, standing upon the steps before a line of waiting girls. My heart thudded uneasily at the sight of it—the prince was tall, wearing relatively plain dress clothes. His curly hair fell down to his shoulders, and his easy smile seemed to please the young girl standing before him.

 _He looks nice_ , I thought. _He doesn't look like a prince at all. How come I never even considered that?_

I glanced around the room to find the end of the line. The dais was at the back of the hall and beyond that appeared to be the garden, framed by enormous doors opened wide to the heavily scented evening. I took a deep breath and made to move through the crowd when a hand caught my arm.

"And exactly what are you doing _HERE_?"

It was Anna, her hair and dress partially undone, as if she had just been in a fight. I gasped in surprise and pulled away from her.

"I have an invitation," I said.

"Give it to me," she growled, snatching the paper from my hands. It immediately ripped.

"How did you get invited?" She demanded. "You should be up in your tower right now packing your bags, because the Necromancer is taking you away as soon as the sun rises!"

I stared at her in shock, my feet glued to the floor. "What did you say? Necromancer?"

She laughed cruelly. "That's what he is, Mary. Your new husband does a lot more than hunting, I've found out. So you better be a good wife and go _home_."

I began to back away from her; Anna's temper was rising, and she was unpredictable, like Lorna. I guessed she had a bad experience with the prince, and so I had two options: fight, or flight.

"Leave!" she insisted, stomping her foot. "Leave, or I'll tell everyone who you _really_ are!"

I turned my back to her and left the great hall, my feet deftly moving me through the crowd of many faces. _These people belong here_ , I thought furiously, unable to suppress my embarrassment. _I don't belong here_.

 _The fairy said I did. My mother put my name on the list-_

But that was years ago. Everything had changed since that day.

"Mary!" a harsh voice spoke my name.

I nearly leaped out of my glass slippers; I looked around the garden, where the moon glowed softly upon a wall of towering hedges down the path. A glossy black bird perched on an overhanging branch of a flowering dogwood just above me gazed down with its imperceptible beady eyes.

"Mary!" It said again, and then fluttered off of its perch and onto the path. Then, it turned and lifted off towards the wall of towering hedges.

 _It said my name. How did it know my name?_

I looked around me: I was alone. The other guests were gathered closer towards the doors that led to the great hall. There could be no mistake that the bird had addressed, well, _me._

"Wait!" I took off down the path, following the bird deeper into the garden, where no torches lit the way. The hedges stretched high into the sky around me as the path wound about. The bird fluttered just ahead of me- always just out of my reach, leading me on. A fork in the path appeared. I stopped. The bird had vanished.

 _What was that about?_

Which way had it gone? Down the left path, or the right? Or did it just fly off into the sky to leave me wondering what it all meant?

Left, or right? Right, or left? Or center? Dare I go further?

I stepped forward, and immediately collided with someone in the darkness.

"Oof!"

"Careful," they said, their hands quickly balancing me. I looked up at a stranger with a face shrouded in shadow.

"I didn't see you there," I said quickly, "I'm so sorry." I stepped back into the moonlight, and from the shadows emerged a boy about my age. In his hands was a familiar rose—the one Sir Gander had gifted me for the ball. He held it out for me to take. "Are you alright? This fell."

I hesitated. I knew I had never seen this boy before, but suddenly there was something so profoundly familiar about him that I was momentarily speechless. My eyes raked over him in confusion—average height, lean, hair neatly combed back behind his ears, and curious hazel eyes that regarded me with equal hesitance.

 _No, I don't know_. The boy in my dream was similar, but this wasn't him.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." I took the rose.

A strange moment of silence followed.

"Er—were you heading into the maze?" he asked. "It's quite large, and sometimes people get lost in there."

"No," I said. "It's strange—I saw a bird and it sort of led me here. I think it said my name."

The boy looked at me for a moment before erupting into laughter. He probably thought I was joking.

"I'm sorry to laugh," he managed to say, "it's just, that's happened to me before and no one ever believes me. The bird—a black one, isn't it?"

I nodded. Another strange silence followed.

The boy cocked his head as he regarded me. "I'm sorry—have we met each other before?"

 _Definitely not_. I shook my head. "My name's Mary."

"Okay good, I didn't want to be rude—I've met so many new people here, but I thought I've seen you before-"

"And _you_ are?"

"Stefan," he said.

I laughed. "Oh, like the prince? You and the prince have the same name?"

He seemed confused for a moment, but then he smiled and laughed it off. "Yes, like the prince."

Then I remembered _why_ I had even come to the ball. "I should be getting back," I realized. "I'm supposed to meet him tonight. It's getting so late." I turned to go.

"Wait," said the boy quickly. I stopped.

For a moment he hesitated, like he wanted to say something he couldn't. And then the sky opened up above us and warm, mid-summer's rain began to fall.

Stefan looked at me, smiling oddly. "There's a shelter just down this path—it's dry." He gestured to the center path, and so we rushed deeper into the garden to escape the burgeoning downpour. Up ahead I spotted a round, glass gazebo and I followed the boy inside. We were out of breath from running, but we looked at each other and laughed.

"Look at us," I said, wringing some of the water out of my hair, "what would the prince think?"

"He would think we should have known it was going to rain; it's been thundering for hours," Stefan replied breathlessly, slipping off his golden-threaded doublet and shaking out the drops.

I stepped over to the gazebo window and placed my hand upon the glass. I could feel the rain running down it on the other side; it sent random shivers down my spine.

"Are you cold?" Stefan asked. His hair, before combed back neatly behind his ears, was now hanging around his face in damp strands.

"A little," I admitted, and then I chuckled as a memory popped into my mind. "Only this morning I was melting under the morning sun in the market. Summer mornings are busy and _hot_."

"The market?" Stefan asked. "What's it like? I've never visited it before."

"You've never been to the market? How do you buy things?"

He looked at me curiously again, and then said, "The servants buy anything I need. Don't you have servants?"

I bit down hard on my tongue to keep myself from saying something rude. Clearly this boy was a privileged member of society—he was at the prince's ball, of course. His clothes looked expensive enough. Why would he think I'd be any different? I was dressed just as well as him, and attending the same occasion.

"I prefer to do things for myself," I explained mildly. "The market is lively, and the bookshop is right around the corner. Sometimes I spend my entire afternoon reading there."

He looked contemplatively out the window as the rain continued to fall. "I'm not allowed to spend my entire afternoon reading. I don't have freedom like that."

"Why not?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He just looked at me and smiled politely.

Just then, the rain let up and a fine mist hung in the garden. 'Speaking of freedom," I noted. "It's stopped raining. I think we could go back."

Stefan stood by the far window, his doublet drying on the bench. "I don't think I'm ready to go back," he said.

I opened the door to the gazebo and in rolled the humid mist. Faintly I could hear the music wafting from the castle, and the fireflies returned to light the path through the garden. "Come outside," I said. "It feels… magical."

Stefan rolled up the sleeves to his loose fitting under-shirt and slowly stepped out into the garden. He looked like a different person from only a few moments ago, when I first saw him. Before I could stop myself, I reached up to him and brushed a wet strand of hair away from his face. He didn't stop me, but he did look surprised.

I blushed, looking away. _He is just a stranger. You don't really know him._

I turned to go.

"Er—before you go," he said, "what would you say if I asked you for a dance?"

 _A dance?_ How could I keep forgetting why I was here and who I was supposed to meet? Even rain-soaked, it was my destiny to meet the prince. I couldn't allow any more time to slip by. "I really must go," I said apologetically. "Maybe after I-"

"—meet the prince?" Stefan finished.

I nodded.

He sighed, and nodded. "I understand."

I hesitated. Why did I suddenly feel like walking away would be a mistake?

"Actually," I said, "a few more moments won't hurt. I just—you have no idea what I went through to get here tonight. It's been… surreal."

"I'm glad you came," said Stefan. We linked up right there on the misty garden path as the music from the castle met us as gently as the swaying of the hedges in the soft breeze. Standing so close to him, I breathed in his scent with the lingering petrichor hanging in the air. _Is this what falling in love with someone feels like?_

By the time the music died, the garden air had cleared and once again the moon bathed the castle in silver. Stefan's hand was warm against mine.

"I'll walk you back to the great hall," he said. We went slowly, our words passing back and forth with enthusiasm.

The interior of the castle was a stark, blinding contrast compared to the shadows and glow of the garden. The guests were all gathered together now, chatting animatedly in the hall. With no music playing, it seemed like everyone was waiting for something.

As Stefan led me inside heads began to turn towards us. I gazed around, confused why everyone was suddenly paying attention to me. I stopped in my tracks.

They weren't waiting for something, I realized. They were waiting for _someone_.

The boy with the curly hair, whom I had originally thought to be the prince, approached us through the parting crowd. He bowed to Stefan.

 _Prince Stefan._

"I was wondering when I'd see you again," he said to him. "They're waiting for you."

Prince Stefan smiled wanly, and turned back to me. I dropped into a deep curtsy, my heart racing in horror.

"No—it's okay," he said quietly to me as the guests stared on with curiosity. "We've already met, remember?"

I looked up at him in shock. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Before he could respond, my step-sisters materialized from the crowd.

"She's not supposed to be here!" Anna shrieked, breaking the hanging silence in the hall. "She's my servant—she stole my invitation to get in!"

Didi nodded furiously beside her. "It's true! I can prove it! _And_ she stole my mother's dress!"

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as they continued to scream. Stefan stepped between us, and his friend quickly moved in front of them.

"That's enough! You have disrupted the peace too many times tonight. Stefan—give me the order and I will see them out," said a young man dressed in guard clothes.

Stefan turned to me, his eyes full of concern. "Mary, do you know them?"

My mouth went dry and my head was swimming. The hall around me was stretching into a blur. "I—I", I tried to speak, but I stumbled over my words.

And then Lord Terrowin appeared beside them. He was dressed in his long, black coat, anger etched tensely across his gaunt face. "The girl belongs to me," he said, pointing to me. "Her step-mother legally signed her to me this morning. I have the papers here-"

He was interrupted by the village clock's booming chimes echoing over the castle. DONG! DONG! DONG! It was midnight.

I turned and ran.

Out of the ballroom I fled, past the confused guards and guests and away from Stefan's calls. I think he tried to come after me, but I was determined to lose him and get as far away as possible. I flew down the palace steps to the carriage path where Sir Gander waited, and it began to rain again.

"We have to go now!" I urged him, "Please hurry!" _They're going to get me and take me back_ , I thought with horror. _I can't let them find me._

I climbed into the carriage and hastily shut the door. Sir Gander got the horse moving immediately, and in no time we were racing down the street away from the castle, and away from the city as well. I peered out the back of the carriage to make sure we were not being followed.

We were getting away.

I sat back in the seat, relieved and exhausted, and only then realized that I was missing one of my glass slippers.


	5. Chapter 5

It hurt to run away, but I knew there was no turning back, ever. The fairy had said as much—if I go back I'll be cursed.

 _But why? Why didn't I ask about that?_

Because I wanted to go to the ball. And that ended horribly.

But I _had_ met the prince, after all. And I even danced with him. With that so suddenly behind me, the only way to go now was forward. Faster and faster the carriage flew through the city, bumping and bouncing in the pouring rain. I held on inside, my head swimming with panic. _Must leave them behind. Leave it all behind._

I could hear lightning strike as the wind howled, and through the window I could see that we were now on the outskirts of the city, taking the road into the forest.

"Are you okay, out there?" I called to Sir Gander, my head peeking out the window.

"Just fine, Miss Mary!" he replied over the wind. I sat back, and we rode on.

Among my thoughts and the chaos that ensued outside, suddenly I heard the cry of a wolf. I again stuck my head out of the carriage.

"Sir Gander! Did you hear that?"

"I did m'lady!"

"Be most cautious!" I warned. If the horse became frightened, I couldn't guess what was to become of us. How large was this forest we were in? How long until the next village?

It felt like another half hour passed before I heard the howling again. Perhaps it was a full moon, impossible to see beneath the storm. Or perhaps we were being hunted.

To my surprise, the carriage lurched to a stop. I immediately opened the door and climbed out, barefoot but wearing the long hooded cloak gifted to me from the fairy, into the rain. I beheld the darkened forest around us and the drowned path before us as I came around to the front, where Sir Gander was slumped forward onto his knees, his face concealed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed. I peered up at him in panic.

"She said it wouldn't last…" Sir Gander looked down to me, eyes bleary, his face covered in feathers. I gasped, stepping back.

"But—you can't leave me here, like this-" I said in disbelief.

He opened his mouth to reply, but in that moment his nose suddenly protruded and his mouth met with it as they transformed into a beak. A strangled quack was all that was heard.

"How can this be!" I cried, pulling myself up onto the coach seat. I reached for Sir Gander's hand, trying to think of anything I could do to reverse the magic; he had not voluntarily returned to his original form, but soon enough he was once again all goose and no man.

Soon after, despite my desperate pleas, he flew away.

There was nothing left for me to do but to continue on. I seized the reigns of the carriage and eased the horse on, slowly and steadily, down the crooked, flooded path. I could see the water rising above the horse's ankles as they trotted through the mess. And I could still hear the wolves in the distance, but I sensed they were coming closer. There was no going any faster.

I halted the carriage once more and climbed back down. With shaking fingers, I detached the horse. The old steed neighed nervously as he stepped away from the carriage, unsure of where he was supposed to go.

 _I've lost my way._

Recalling what little knowledge I had from riding a horse in my youth, I climbed atop the old steed my father had favored so long ago. He had named him Luc.

"Ride, Luc! It is just us now!"

The horse took off down the path, sloshing through icy water. I held onto his neck as securely as possible, my long hood falling back behind me and my hair soaked from the rain. The trek was becoming more and more winding, the water deepening and obscuring the path. Luc trotted on carefully, but he was not a skilled horse and was no way equipped for handling the severe terrain.

Up ahead I spied a fallen tree limb blocking the road. If Luc could jump over it, I could take it as a sign of luck. I braced for the jump as we came upon it, and just as soon as the horse kicked his front heels into the air and we went up, the wolf's howling sounded again. This time, closer than ever.

Luc was startled. His back legs fell short of the clearance and he stumbled, tossing me from his back. I tumbled hard into the gnarled and soaked vegetation lining the path.

I must have even blacked out for a moment, because once I was able to stand, the horse was gone. I could feel something warm run down the side of my face. I hastily wiped the blood away and ran my finger gently across my right temple, where the skin had broken. I knew head wounds bled out a lot, and that I would probably be okay, but for how long? I needed to move my legs. The wolves were coming.

I stumbled down the rocky path, legs moving as fast as they could. I knew my head continued to bleed, and that eventually I would pass out if I did not soon rest.

 _Do not stop now._

On and on I pressed, winding deeper into the cold, dark forest that seemed to lead nowhere. It wasn't much longer before I spied my hunter. It must have been the alpha wolf; he was crouched ahead of me on the path, eyes glowing golden and sinister, teeth bared with hunger. I veered off the path, now running for my life. The wolf did not immediately follow.

It didn't matter to me that I was lost anymore. If I made it to dawn, I could continue on with the sun above me and a better sense of direction. I pondered if climbing up a tree would ensure me safety through the night. _How could I be sure of that?_

The sound of several wolves howling together in the near distance reinvigorated the sense of fear and panic inside of me. The pack was now all together and close by, and my time was running out.

My vision began to fade in and out. It wasn't severe, but just enough to deter me moments at a time. Somewhere in my fits of blindness, I stumbled upon a wrought iron gate. It seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. It was the largest gate I had ever seen, and it was slightly ajar. And behind it was a castle. Not like Stefan's castle—but a black castle, treacherous and huge.

There was no time to negotiate. I slipped through the gate and onto the mysterious grounds, following the cobblestoned path to a set of stone stairs that led to a doorway.

The castle loomed above me, stretching up into the blackened sky, its true height obscured by the storm. It was a strong castle built of stone; weathered stone twisting into towers upon towers. I could only see one door; the front door. A little too obvious, it seemed, but as the gates had already allowed me entrance and I knew the wolves were hot on my heels .Still, my best chance seemed to lie behind those two giant doors made of hardened oak. So I knocked.

My feeble touch offered no feedback. My knuckles were already cracked and bloody from my earlier skirmishes, and my head wound—if only I could see it—left me dizzier with every passing moment. I knocked again, this time with my other hand. It made but little impact upon the sturdy door.

Just then, I heard the cry of a wolf in the near distance, followed by an echo of calls from the rest of the pack. My stomach overturned inside of me as I began pounding on the door frantically, hoping someone—anyone—would answer and allow me entrance. But the storm was too loud. It was practically roaring, and lightning flashed in the distance followed by thunder that nearly shook the ground. Even as I stood there, my hands resting against the door in uncertainty, my vision grew fuzzy. What was to become of me if I was left out here?

There it was—another distinct call of the alpha wolf. He was so near I could almost feel his presence, and his hunger. In a panicked state I tore myself away from the door and stumbled back down the stairs and onto the flooded path. Ice cold water reached my ankles now, so I had to take extra care to not stumble onto any loose rocks or foliage, as this yard was overgrown and unkempt; the gate itself was laid heavily with vines stretching from the ground and twisting through the iron bars. As I took hold of the side that had opened in order to again close it and secure it against the wolves, the alpha appeared out of the trees, his eyes gleaming. The gate was incredibly heavy as I threw my weight against it, bringing it to a close with a shuddering creaking noise. The alpha let out a guttural snarl as he met me on the other side, jaws snapping through the bars, trying desperately for the taste of flesh.

The wolf was heavier than me, and now it was his weight against mine. I kicked at him and screamed with the hopes that it would be intimidating, but I was nothing more than prey in his eyes.

Three more wolves emerged from the forest, charging full speed at the gate. Their barking drowned out the thunder around us. The impact of the four wolves against the gate overpowered me, and I staggered backwards. Then I turned and ran.

My head-start granted me just enough time to slosh up the path and stairs to the front door again before the wolves found their way through the gate. They were now coming after me, and closing in.

I've heard it said that before you die, you see your life pass by you in one second—and at this time, I was trying to remember so hard what it was that ultimately led me here. All I wanted was that moment of euphoria you're supposed to receive instead of the terror I felt. And just as the door before me suddenly opened and I felt a hand grasp my arm and pull me inside, my fuzzy vision began to darken and my senses began to fail. In a second, I forgot about the wolves and the storm and the fear and I gave in to the darkness.

* * *

Stefan awoke to the sun blazing through his window in his room high up in the castle. He had only been back from school for a month and desperately missed sleeping in the old dormitory with his schoolmates, far away up in the mountains. This castle, enormous and sprawling in every direction, never truly felt like home. At school he was never treated like a prince—but when home, he was back on his father's agenda.

 _You will soon be a ruler_ , King Peter insisted. _It's time we prepare you for that._

Who was that girl, though?

When he first saw her she shimmered like the moon. How had he never seen her before?

Stefan emerged from his room and onto his sun-soaked balcony. The heat of the mid-summer's day was already hanging in the air. The storm from the night before lingered in humid pockets of air that drifted about. Down below, the prince could see the servants and groundskeepers scrambling to clean up after the party and storm.

Mary had disappeared into the storm. _But why?_

He would have danced with her all night if she had stayed—forget the rest. If he was finally sure of _anything_ , it was her.

 _So find her._

The prince gripped the balcony, deep in thought. He was the _prince_. Finding her wouldn't be impossible if he really looked. It's true: they had only met for a single moment in time. Stefan had no idea who this mysterious girl was, but he wanted to. Did that make him crazy?

 _Or is this what it feels like to fall in love?_


	6. Chapter 6

As I dreamed of Lord Terrowin following me through a forest, looking to capture me and take me back like a prized trophy, I could hear voices in the distance. Voices that did not belong in my dream, where I hid from tree to tree, too afraid to look back that I might see his shining dark eyes and evil grin just there behind me.

" _Who is she?_ "

" _Where did she come from?_ "

The voices echoed through the forest as I ran, though my legs were moving slower and slower. Lord Terrowin would surely catch up to me; he would capture me, and if I was lucky I would just wake up.

" _This is impossible…_ "

" _It's a sign!"_

I had slowed to a complete stop. The trees around me were bending, clearing a path for the necromancer. _No! No!_ I tried to scream. The voices continued.

" _We can't keep her here. When she wakes up she must go…_ "

Through the trees the necromancer appeared as a writhing black shadow. In my dream, I could no longer move. He reached out towards me, his bony hand turned into demonic claws. I could only scream.

" _She's frightened. Quick—give her the medicine. She must rest._ "

As the necromancer's shadow consumed me, the surrounding forest slowly dissolved into nothingness. I felt myself falling deeper, deeper, and with me the words:

" _When she wakes up, she'll have some explaining to do. She could be our downfall..._ "

" _She could be our only hope_."

* * *

When I awoke, it felt as if my slumber had endured a hundred years. Like I had been lying in the deepest point of the ocean and my resurfacing was slow and agonizing. _Maybe I died_ , I thought, _and I'm coming back to life_. The necromancer had killed me in my dream. You're not supposed to die in your dreams.

I found myself lying in a four poster bed in a large room that I had never seen before; still wearing my mother's dress from the night of the ball— _and the night of the wolves_. The dress was ragged, soiled, bloodied and torn. I immediately took it off and threw it on the floor, examining my body closely. There were still scrapes and bruises, and my head was sore where I had hit it, I assessed, but other than that I did not feel pain or discomfort.

 _Someone has been caring for me_ , I realized. _But where am I?_

I crawled out of the bed slowly, finding my footing upon the floor. My legs were weak—how long had I been out for? Hanging off the end of the king sized four-poster was a heavy velvet robe. My mother's dress was ruined, I realized with a pang of sadness. I slipped into the robe and held it close to me as I gazed around at the room I was in.

A bed, a wardrobe, a mirror, a candelabra. A large rug stretching before a fireplace. I peered through the window and then realized where I was.

 _The castle._

The memories came rushing back to me in fragments—I could see the wolves snarling at me through the heavy wrought iron gate and I could feel the storm as it raged around me. And then there was the castle: black, towering, imperceptible.

 _But I am safe here: that much is apparent_.

Outside was what I was afraid of. Lord Terrowin and my step-sisters would be looking for me, I knew it. I _knew_ it.

As the light outside began to fade with the distant setting sun, I retrieved a candle holder and lit a single candle, stepping out of my room and into a vast, dark corridor. The shadows hung with coldness. And the floor was stone cold beneath my bare feet.

"Hello?" I said out loud into the strange, empty space. "Is there anyone here?"

I made my way down the hall to a stairwell. There was no one and nothing in sight—not a movement, not a sound. _Am I here alone?_ How could that be?

The stairwell led to many more halls and wide open spaces overlooking a midnight terrace. I walked through these rooms in silence, straining my ears for the slightest indication of _life_.

 _What is this place?_ I wondered. As far as I could tell, I was alone in an abandoned castle. Not a candle was lit, nor did a mouse stir. I moved like a ray of light through the vast emptiness, gazing into the shadows with trepidation. _Someone is here_ , I thought determinedly. _Someone has been taking care of me, otherwise I could be dead by now._

I wandered until my candle burned dangerously low, through rooms and halls and vast empty spaces. Outside, the night was still and quiet. Finally I came to a pair of wide doors. One was ajar, and a golden ray of light fell through into the pitch-dark hallway.

"Hello?" I said cautiously, nearing the room. When no one replied, I pushed opened the door and slowly entered—and gasped. In the heart of this dark, empty, and cold castle was something I never expected to see: a library.

Like other rooms in this castle this one was cavernous, with the ceiling stretching far beyond above and the walls stretching into oblivion, lined with shelves and shelves of thousands of books. I stepped inside the lightened room—a roaring fire occupied an enormous fireplace, casting warmth to every inch of the space. I left my candle behind and explored the walls of books—my dream, my paradise. I ran my fingers across the book bindings, reading each title. There were books from every language, new books and old books, and books on every subject. My heart thundered excitedly as I drank it all in—sure, none of this was mine, but even _looking_ filled my heart with happiness. And then, somewhere among the hundreds of thousands of books occupying this library fit for ten kings, I came across one I immediately recognized. _Winter's Heart,_ a tale of a kingdom cast in perpetual winter where heroes arise from a dark age to restore spring to the people, and the world. I had read that story three times already, and even then I plucked it off the shelf before I could stop myself and held it close to me. Books are like companions, I've found. If you protect them they will protect you. In many ways.

"I _wondered_ where you'd gone!" A voice hissed suddenly from behind me.

I dropped the book and spun around. I hadn't heard anyone around for the entire time—

It was a woman, wearing servant's clothes, old and with a kindly face. She reminded me of Old Mia, regarding me with concern. "How have you wandered this far?" she continued, "I only left you for a moment—I see you've found the library…." She fussed on, approaching me and fastening the buttons on the robe I wore. I stared at her in silence. "You're not ready to be exploring this forsaken place, my dear, you are not fully restored. I know these things, I always did…"

"Who are you?" I managed to say as she placed the book back into my arms.

Her rosy cheeks swelled into a large smile. "You can call me Martha, everyone does. Come now, please if you will, and I will show you back to your room. There is one more dose of the good stuff I still need to give you before you're up and about…" she ushered me out of the library and back out into the darkened corridor of the castle, her skirts swishing animatedly as she walked.

"I feel okay," I said uncertainly as she hurried me along. "Are you the one who has been taking care of me?"

"Not the only one," she replied, "but for now, yes. I imagine you have many questions, dear."

She led me to a flight of stairs and we began to climb. The castle, even with her presence, was still a curiously lonely place.

"I was beginning to think I was alone," I remarked quietly as we walked. "This place is so quiet and empty."

Martha chuckled. "It must seem so, don't it? Not to worry—Blackhill isn't always this way. It's just been quite some time since we've had a visitor, and its best that you don't become overwhelmed. I mean, you only just arrived two days ago-"

"Pardon me," I interrupted, "did you say I arrived _two days_ ago?"

Martha nodded as she briskly steered us onto another long corridor.

"What have I been doing for the past two days?" I asked in disbelief.

"Healing," was all she said.

We finally returned to the room I had woken up in. The candelabras were lit now, casting the chamber in a soft, comforting glow. "Would you like me to light the fire for you?" Martha asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

"Oh—no need," I said quickly. "I'm used to lighting fires. Just not in the dead of summer."

Martha raised her eyebrows. "Oh, is it summer?" she asked, as if she didn't know. She noticed my confusion right away. "The castle can be quite cold at times," she explained, "and the weather here can change in a matter of minutes. One moment, the sun is shining through the cloudless sky, and the next there is snow falling."

I didn't know what to say.

"Oh!" Martha exclaimed, noticing my ruined dress on the floor. "What a shame. This was _so_ beautiful on you…"

"It was my mother's," I said sadly.

She scooped up the remains of the dress and folded it neatly. "I'll give it to Ella, our seamstress. She can work miracles! She'd be happy to repair it for you. Now, I must insist you receive the remainder of your rest. Here, this will help you sleep again." Martha poured a milky liquid from a pitcher at my bedside into a cup and handed it to me expectantly.

"I—I don't know what to say," I began. "I don't know how to thank you for taking care of me like this."

She chuckled, her rosy cheeks beaming. "Like I said before, my dear, we haven't received visitors at Blackhill for—hmm, more than ten years, I believe? And when you arrived you nearly died—not to alarm you, of course, I'm confident in my healing abilities."

I drank deeply from the cup. The drink was sweet and thick, and almost immediately I began to feel tired again.

"You never told me your name," said Martha as I climbed back into the four-poster bed.

She was right. Given the circumstances, we had exchanged very little information between the two of us, most importantly my name. But as I thought about it, red flags went up in my head.

 _I can't tell her my name, not with Lord Terrowin the necromancer and my step-sisters looking for me. If anyone finds out where I am and who I am, they'll find me and take me back, and I'll be cursed…_

My face must've given away my fear, for Martha quickly shook her head. "It's okay, I promise you dear. You are safe here. We only want to help."

I took another sip of the drought, my mind racing. Martha was waiting for my answer—how could I tell her that I was in critical danger and must hide my identity without giving that away? I clutched my book, _Winter's Heart_ , wishing I could spirit myself away—into the book itself. The main charter's name was Belle.

"My name is Belle." I positively blurted it. It was a lie, of course, but if I could pretend that I was a character in another story to get me through this, then it didn't seem like lying. Not totally.

Martha smiled, not a hint of distrust on her face, "Now that's a beautiful name," she laughed. "Fitting for a beautiful girl. That's right, just relax now. When you wake the castle will wake with you. It's going to be so exciting!"

Sleep was overtaking me now. I laid back; the bed was so soft and warm. How could such a strange place feel more like home than "home" ever did?

As I drifted into a peaceful, dreamy world, Martha's words trailed behind me in the distance.

"And the Master will want to meet you, undoubtedly," she was saying, "he was the one who saved you from the wolves. Though I don't expect you remember much of it, poor thing. I had never seen him so worried before…"

 _Who?_

"Ah—I've said too much," Martha continued, her voice so far away now I was already forgetting about it. "Best be on my way. This castle isn't going to haunt _itself_!" Her laughter faded away and I welcomed the sweet nothingness of slumber.

And so Mary was left behind, and I became _Belle_.


	7. Chapter 7

I stood in front of the mirror examining myself. The bruises and scrapes from my misadventure through the woods had faded; there was a colorful tinge to my skin that made me look and feel strikingly more alive. For the past three days that I had been a visitor here at this castle called Blackhill, my health had not only been restored, but vastly improved. Whoever had rescued me, they saved my life. A heartfelt _thank you_ was no doubt in the works—but there was also something else on my mind.

 _I need to leave._

Where to? I didn't know. Getting through the woods safely into the next village was my first task, and I did not know the way. The next village could be fifty miles—and then what? I had no money, no clothes, no map, and no provisions. When I was younger my father always promised to take us on a trip to the coast—it was a faraway journey for sure, but there I would get to sail ships and breathe in the salty air of a distant ocean. Maybe I could still do that.

My host had already been so kind to me. Being nursed back to life without even seeing my hero's face made me feel apprehensive, though. What would they think of me? Would they be so generous to help me again? I would just need a map, if they had one, no doubt they did based off the size of their impossible library. I would need a small number of provisions, and if possible, some coins to survive off of. It's difficult to ask for things, I realized, when you have nothing to offer in return.

The wardrobe in my room had been filled while I was sleeping—inside were clothes and shoes that fit me. Three casual dresses, two pairs of shoes. I tried them all on, staring at myself in the mirror now in bewilderment. How odd that the clothes and shoes fit me perfectly. And how was this possible overnight?

There was a knock at the door. Martha entered carrying a tray of dishes and food, her face beaming as she saw me up. " _Wonderful_ ," she gushed, "I just knew that today would be the day. How do you feel my dear?"

"Better than ever before," I said truthfully.

She sat the tray of food onto my bed and began fussing with the plates. "Cooky is eager to know what you like to eat," she said, "he is our chef—breakfast is his favorite meal to prepare. He can fry apple sausages with hot cakes, fresh honeyed jam, and a serving of his famous white tea. Very healthy, I'm sure. He also loves to prepare dinner, though he hardly has anyone to cook for these days…"

I sat on the bed and picked up a piece of toast, chewing carefully and easing it into my stomach. "That all sounds divine," I said, chewing. "If you don't mind me asking— _who_ lives here?"

Martha smiled warmly, but she averted her eyes as she continued fussing with the tray, saying, "It's just us, the castle staff, and the master, of course. I think of us as a happy little group, though there are more of us than you will see."

"Hmm," I pondered her words. It seemed as if there was something she wasn't telling me, but it wasn't my place to pry. "I'd like to thank the master for helping me."

"Oh?"

I nodded. "Most certainly. When can I meet him?"

"Oh." Her tone fell as she bit her lip, thinking. "Not today, I'm afraid."

I raised my eyebrows. _Why not?_ I thought. "Okay," I said. "Perhaps tomorrow, then?"

She smiled. "I will inquire on your behalf. Until then, I advise you to eat up! Cooky will be so disappointed if you don't try his porridge…"

Before she left, she turned to me again with the same hesitant smile. "By the way, Belle, you're welcome to spread out for a little bit. There's no reason for you to stay cooped up in this room. You're welcome to take a walk around the castle and grounds. Any door that is not locked is yours to open. Cooky will cook you something nice for dinner tonight."

"Thank you," I said, and she was gone.

* * *

She had said the castle would "awaken" with me, but still it was a lonely place.

But some rooms felt like there was someone, maybe even more than one person, there in the shadows. I could almost hear whispers, though it was most likely a trick of my mind. At the corner of my eye there'd be an occasional disturbance. Blackhill's halls and chambers were endless and cold, though the pale sun now shone through the dusty windows and illuminated something I had not seen before: beauty. Yes, I thought. Someone has lived here, and loved this place.

My wanderings brought me through a hall that opened up onto a garden terrace.

 _Just like Stefan's_ , I remembered with a pang of sadness. Except Stefan is a prince. What kind of person is this master? A hidden castle in the woods, an empty castle full of shadows? It was certainly a riddle I was not equipped to solve.

The garden was dead. The trees, gnarled and hanging, wept over dry, thorny bushes and winding paths overgrown with weeds. Dead leaves covered the ground; somewhere in the mess I discovered a murky pool of water. It rippled in the soft breeze—how had the air grown so cold in the dead of summer? I shivered in my new clothes, my eyes passing over all of the sadness of the garden. I could tell it had once been well cared for and beautiful, but now it lay in ruins.

 _No_ , I thought. _There has to be one beautiful thing in this garden still. I will find it._

So I spent the afternoon picking through the ruins of the garden.

By the time the sun began to set, it was getting bitterly cold. I didn't notice my fingers turning blue as I was lost in my thoughts while I searched. After a while, someone cleared their throat.

"Ahem," they said politely.

It was a man, elderly like Martha, dressed in a formal grey coat, his white hair tied back from his shoulders. He had a prestigious air about him, the way he stood, the way he seemed to watch me with both patience and impatience.

"My name is Clarkson," he announced. "I am the caretaker of this castle. May I ask what is it you are looking for?"

I brushed the dirt from my hands onto my dress, standing up straight. "I was looking for something that is alive. Surely the entire garden isn't dead?"

He smiled grimly. "I'm afraid it is, Mistress Belle. Martha has asked me to invite you inside for dinner. It seems the weather is beginning to turn."

From the sky cold rain began to fall, softly pattering onto the garden path. Clarkson led me back into the castle, through the hall and into a smaller chamber lit with a dozen candelabras and a fire. A long table lined with twelve chairs was adorned with hot, fragrant food. There was only one place set. Clarkson indicated for me to sit.

"Am I to dine alone?" I asked, not trying to sound ungrateful, though it did seem quite strange to me. Didn't anyone else here eat?

"The master is unavailable tonight," he explained apologetically. "But as our guest, the table is yours. Help yourself to all the food and drink you need." He nodded his head respectfully and exited the room. I seated myself at the head of the table and ate the food in silence.

That night I experienced the worst nightmare I ever had, and woke up screaming.

Martha rushed into my room, her face drawn with concern. "What is it, my dear?!"

I was out of breath, my body drenched in sweat. I could only look at her without words.

I had died again in my dream, and the necromancer was the one who killed me.

* * *

"I need to see the master," I told Martha the next day over breakfast. "It's very important."

She looked at me with guilt in her eyes. "I'm very sorry. The master will not see anyone today."

" _What?_ Why not!" My voice raised slightly in exasperation. Every day I spent here made me more vulnerable to being found when I returned to the woods. And I dreaded what could be waiting for me there.

Martha gazed out my window into the cold summer sky, offering no explanation.

I placed my hands on hers gently. "I have been here nearly a week," I said carefully. "You must understand, I need to speak with the master. I can't stay here forever."

"Certainly not," Martha agreed, squeezing my hand comfortingly. "He will see you. Just give him time."

I shook my head. "Why does he need time? This is urgent!"

Again, her face was drawn with concern. I could only guess what she must've thought of me.

I took a deep breath. "Forgive me. I'm _grateful_ to be alive, and to be cared for. But I am not safe here. I need to go soon. Do you think he could help me with that? Is there a map I can take?"

A flicker of understanding dawned in her eyes. Her eyebrows pulled close together in sadness. "My dear, are you in some kind of danger? Tell me truthfully."

I was immediately overcome with emotion and didn't dare fight the tears that rose to my eyes. I couldn't tell her. But I didn't have to.

Martha pulled me into a tight embrace and held me as I wept, saying comforting words to ease me. It took me a long time to recover, and I felt drained and raw when the tears finally stopped.

"You _are_ safe here," she said. "I promise it. And the master will see you soon. I'll arrange it myself."

"Thank you."

And so another long day passed in the castle. I didn't venture outside, for I did not have a coat to protect me from the now-frosty air. I watched summer change to autumn and autumn turn to winter through my bedroom window. By nightfall a light snow began to fall.

 _It's impossible_ , I thought _. But then again, this place is magic. I don't understand it, but I know it._

I revisited the library after dinner that night, returning the book I borrowed to find a new one to read. The grand fire in the fireplace was bright and burning but the library appeared deserted. _The master is here somewhere_ , I pondered, _so why does he hide from me?_

I chose a book and returned to my room, hoping to read until I was so tired that there would be no chance of nightmares. It was hopeless.

I awoke again screaming.

Lord Terrowin, the necromancer, was hunting me. I could sense his presence in my dreams growing closer. He would find me; it was only a matter of time. _But why? What does he want from me? What will he do to me?_

 _Tomorrow I will see the master_ , I decided _. And then I will leave with or without his help._

* * *

"Tell me I can see him today," I said as Martha brought me breakfast.

She didn't respond.

"Did you tell him?" I asked frantically. "Did you tell him it is urgent?"

"I did," she said carefully.

I sat back on my bed, my mind racing. Outside my window I could see the snow falling again. There were no jackets in the wardrobe provided to me. I would be leaving without one, I decided. _And the hour is already late._

Martha pleaded for me to give it more time. I could only shake my head. "I'm sorry," I said, "but you just don't understand."

I would have gathered my things, but I had nothing to gather. With a full stomach and fresh clothes on my back I headed through the ominous castle, making my way to the ground level in order to go out the way I had come in—through the front door.

 _No horse_ , I thought furiously. _No provisions, no map, no coat, no hope…_

As I made my way through the castle I could sense more of a presence than ever before—surely, and without a doubt, I was being watched. And the whispers I could only imagine I heard before were now more than real; I heard voices throughout the castle. But as I walked, making my way with false confidence to where the front door would be, I saw no one.

The entry hall was shrouded in shadows despite the time of day; there were no windows but instead a few flickering candelabras placed strategically by the entrance and exit points. Ahead were the wide double doors through which I had come before, though I could not remember that part of the night.

I marched straight to the front door and placed my hand on the large brass knob. I braced myself before making the next move: _this is it. I'm off through the woods again, and I won't be as lucky next time I run into trouble_. I made to turn the knob; it did not yield…

I gripped forcefully upon the knob and twisted, but that only resulted in pain shooting through my wrist.

 _Ouch!_

I let go of the doorknob.

I tried again, gritting my teeth against the pain as I willed the door to open. There were no locks that I could see, nothing barring the door from opening—but it simply wouldn't budge.

"It won't open for you," said Clarkson gently. I spun around to find him standing there, watching me.

"Excuse me?"

"Only the master can open the door."

I stared at him incredulously. "That's the truth? Only the master can open the door? Well if it _is_ the truth, then tell him to open it for me. I'm leaving."

Clarkson said nothing. Anger began to swell uncomfortably in my stomach.

"Listen," I said carefully, "I have been here for a week and the master has refused to see me. I am thankful for what he has done, but I need to leave! Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry," Clarkson said, "there's nothing I can do. As I said, only _he_ can open the door."

"I know what you said!" I remarked bitterly. "So where is he then? I demand to speak with him."

A moment of silence passed as Clarkson hesitated to answer, but my patience was spent.

"Never mind," I snapped. "I know he is here somewhere, and so I'll find him myself!"

"Don't," said a new voice.

It came from the far side of the room, where a person stood silhouetted against the flickering candlelight, their image shrouded in shadows.

Clarkson nodded politely and quietly left the room.

"Who are you?" I demanded, staying poised in front of the door.

"I am the master of this castle. Who are _you_?"

"You know who I am," I said impatiently, "you saved me from the wolves. You've kept me here for a week and have refused to see me- and now I'm leaving, and you will open this door."

"I'm not ready to open the door," the stranger said coldly, "and you still haven't told me who you are."

 _What kind of game is this?_

I was growing furious. "What does it matter who I am? In any case, I'm _not_ your prisoner-"

"It matters to me," he returned angrily, "because you lied."

I took a deep breath, composing myself. "I don't know what you mean."

The stranger chuckled softly. "And you're lying still."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," I returned curtly. "Open this door and I'll be on my way."

"Hmm," said the voice from the shadows, "Maybe I'll open the door if you tell the truth."

I stared at the shadows incredulously, my anger rising and falling with uncertainty. What did this stranger know of me?

We were at an impasse. I would not budge, and neither would he.

"I will concede that we have not yet properly met," I said calmly. "So let's get it out of the way. Step in to the light and face me." More than anything I wanted to finally see his face.

"You won't like it if I do," said the master.

"And why not?"

"Because you are running from demons. And I am one," he said. And then he stepped forward, out of the flickering shadow.

Indeed he was a demon. His eyes were wide and hateful, his mouth twisted into a sneer with teeth jutting out as sharp as daggers. His skin was red like blood, all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. I could've screamed, because the horrific demon staring me down was not so far from the necromancer's image in my dreams as he hunted me.

But the master's face was hidden, alas, and the demon was a mask he wore. My fear turned to anger.

"What's wrong with you? You keep me here accusing me of being a liar and you don't have the courage to even face me as yourself!"

"Tell me who sent you here," the master said scathingly.

"No one."

"That's impossible," he snapped. "Blackhill cannot be perceived by outsiders. Are you a spy?"

" _No_!"

" _Then tell me who you are_!"

I couldn't do it. That feeling was back again: fight or flight. I yielded to my anger and blindly fled from the room.

 _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!_ It was all I could think.

The master did not follow me. I stormed back to my bedroom and slammed the door shut, locking it behind me. I screamed into my pillow a thousand times and then my anger put me to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

I awoke to a gentle rapping on my door. I opened my eyes, shivering. The fire in my room was not lit and outside a storm of snow raged furiously against my window.

 _I'm trapped here for now_ , I thought. _Until this magical summer snow lets up, I would not dare try to escape. It would be a suicide mission._

The knocking continued. "My dear, are you awake? Would you like something to eat?"

I recognized Martha's kind voice and opened the door. She was waiting for me with the familiar tray of food, this time covered in sandwiches and tea.

"Thank you," I said quietly as she made her way inside. I shut the door tightly behind her.

I watched as she sat the tray on my bed and began fussing over the items on the tray; business as usual.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hmm?" She looked up from her task. "What did you say, my dear?"

"Why didn't you tell me the master is keeping me here? Am I his prisoner?"

Martha nearly dropped the tea cup she was holding, but caught hold of it just in time. "His _prisoner_? Dear me, no, I _assure_ you it's not like that." She then moved over to my fireplace and began to fuss over that.

"I'm begging you," I said, "tell me then: what is it? Why won't he let me leave?!"

She sighed sadly, pausing her task. "I cannot speak for the master," she said carefully. "None of this has ever happened before."

"So you have no answers to give me," I said bitterly. "You, who have tended to me and cared for me. Why? So the master can have _well cared-for_ prisoner?" My emotions were rising again. I knew they would soon get the best of me—but every part of my being wanted to scream out, to run away. First I was Lorna's prisoner, then I was going to be handed over to Lord Terrowin, and now I was a stranger's prisoner. I sat at the end of my bed, tears welling up into my eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

Martha sat down quietly beside me, the fire now flickering happily, filling the room with its warmth. "I know this is hard on you," she said gently. "I can see the pain you are in; it requires no explanation for me. The master is… well, let me just say I have known him for most of his life. He has a heart of gold. He is fiercely protective and fiercely—well, stubborn I suppose. I do know that he would never, ever harm you, Belle. There is more to this story than you can know."

I shook my head, hot tears falling shamefully down my face. I hated exposing myself this way, but the feeling of dread that had been building up, chasing me all of this time had reached its peak. "I don't care about his supposed heart of gold. I don't care that he's stubborn. He has no right to keep me here—he—he doesn't know what he's doing!"

Martha tutted empathetically, smoothing down my tangled hair with her hand like a mother would. "At least have something to eat," she said, "until we get this all figured out."

 _Hmm…_

"The master wants me to eat?" I asked.

"Of course," said Martha. "He saved you, after all. I just know this is all a big misunderstanding."

"I won't eat anything until he lets me go," I immediately decided. "I'll wither down to a state worse than I was even when I arrived. I swear it."

" _What_?"

I looked her in the eye to show her my sincerity. "I mean what I say. I'll starve myself. He doesn't get to care for me anymore." And with that, I got up and threw the food off of my place and into the fire. Martha gasped in horror.

"You can't!" she exclaimed. "I won't let you do that to yourself."

I stood my ground, my hands shaking. "You can't force me to eat. And if everyone here is so concerned for my well-being, then I'd be free to go by now! _Don't you understand_?"

She stared at me mournfully for a long, silent moment. "My dear," she quietly spoke. "I know this is wrong. If I could open the door for you I would do it in a second—but, there's just one thing-There is _one_ thing I can tell you."

I defiantly held my ground, waiting to hear her answer.

"The master," she said carefully, her tone dropping so low that even I could barely hear her words, "the master recognized you the night he saved you from the wolves. He told me he saw you in a _dream_."

I was frozen in shock. Certainly it was the last thing I ever expected to hear.

She looked at me hopefully. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"A _dream_?"

She nodded, her eyes full with apprehension, as if she told me something of great secrecy.

I have always dreamed—all my life, practically every night. But my dreams were constant, rarely changing, and they were meaningful in a way I knew deep in my soul. Dreams were the truth.

But I was speechless. What could it mean? What if it was a lie? A trick? A manipulation? A way of drawing me out into some kind of trap?

 _Martha wouldn't lie_ , I thought to myself. _But I don't know this master_.

"I need to speak with him," I said. "I'm going to give him one more chance."

Martha beamed, her face washed with relief. "Dinner," she said decidedly. "Cooky will prepare a formal dinner and the master will _most certainly_ attend tonight."

"Good. But I mean it: he gets _one_ more chance."

* * *

That evening the snow storm began to calm, and out of nowhere music began to echo through the castle and into my room. It was a soft, melodic piece on a piano—one I did not recognize. It was admittedly beautiful, and as I waited for Martha to announce dinner time I felt oddly comforted. When was the last time I even heard music?

 _The night of the prince's ball. A lifetime ago._

At last, she came to my room. Clarkson was with her, grim and tall as usual.

"Dinner is served, Mistress Belle."

They escorted me to the small dining room near the garden hall. The long table was set just like before; plates and dishes covered with a feast, candles lighting the silverware—two places set, each at opposite ends of the table. The master was nowhere to be seen.

"I knew he wouldn't come," I remarked.

Clarkson pulled out my chair and invited me to sit down.

"He'll be here," said Martha. She smiled warmly and followed Clarkson out of the room.

I sat down with a huff, staring at all the food I had vowed _not_ to eat, my stomach empty and already aching. The piano music came to an abrupt end, just then, and the castle was once again shrouded in an eerie silence. A second later, the master entered the room from the opposite side. He was once again wearing the demon mask.

I sat up in the chair, my jaw setting in annoyance. "You can't eat while wearing a mask."

He sat down at the other end and folded his hands in his lap, saying nothing.

I folded my arms and sat back. The candles flickered silently between us.

"Ahem," said Clarkson from the doorway. Martha was standing beside him, her hands on her hips. They threw the master a knowing look and swiftly exited the room again.

"They said you're refusing to eat," said the master.

"I won't eat if you won't let me go," I said.

"Then tell me who you are."

I clutched the arm of the chair tightly, my knuckles white. "My name is Belle."

"Why are you lying?"

I breathed carefully through my nose as I stared down the table at the masked stranger.

"You truly are a demon," I said. "Even if you did take off the mask. I bet you're horrible— _disgusting_ to look at!"

The master said nothing.

 _Only a demon would treat me this way_ , I thought with fury. _This is just a game to him._

"I'm not what you think I am," said the master. "But I can't trust you, and apparently you can't trust me. So this is going to be a huge waste of time."

I stood up, my anger making me feel feverish. "Fine," I said. "I never asked for your trust anyway. I didn't ask for you to save me from the wolves!"

The master also stood, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "I know it wasn't really the wolves you were running from. Tell me who sent you here!"

" _Take off your mask_!" I shouted back.

As if it were an impulse, the master raised his hand to the mask but then stopped in the same moment.

From somewhere far in the castle, there was a knock.

We stood there in slice and disbelief, uncertain at what had just happened. Then there was another knock—a series of knocks, hurried and frantic.

"It's—it's the front door," said the master, as if he were unsure.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. My heart fell into the pit of my stomach as horror overcame my body. _It's the necromancer._

I stared at the master, wide eyed and speechless. He lowered his hand away from his face, where the mask remained. Without a word he swiftly exited the room.

"Don't!" I pleaded, following him into the hall.

He was way ahead of me now, disappearing around the corner. I dared not go any further.

 _This is it_ , I thought, leaning against the wall as I put my head in my hands. _It's all over now._

I could hear the heavy front door swing open. There was a strange pause.

Then Lord Terrowin spoke:

"I have walked for days now in the rain and snow. My precious daughter has been lost. I won't stop searching until I have found her. She's mentally ill, you see, and is in need of great care. Only the care her loving _family_ can give to her. Please, sir, tell me you have seen or heard of my daughter?"

The master was silent for a long moment before replying. "How did you find this castle?"

"I have been lost in these words in storms, as I've said," the necromancer replied, his voice wrought with sorrow and disparity. "I will not stop until I find my beloved daughter. Have you seen her?"

"No one comes to these parts," the master replied with a hard edge to his voice. "I've seen nothing."

I sat against the wall, listening, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, my heart racing so fast it could have burst out of my chest.

"I am cold and tired," the necromancer continued, "But I must continue on. She is in great danger, you see."

There was a long, silent pause.

"Will you invite me in?" Lord Terrowin asked. "I can smell food—ah, it's delicious. Do you already have a place set? Maybe two?"

"Whoever it is you're looking for, they're not here," the master declared, his voice tense. "So I think you should be on your way now."

"She's a beautiful girl," said the necromancer. "Beautiful and frightened. If you find her, there will be quite an award for returning her safely. Her name is Mary."

"There is no one named _Mary_ here," said the master. "So goodbye."

"I found this at your gates," said Lord Terrowin. "It belongs to her."

Another pause, this time short.

"I have never seen that before," said the master. "And I'm telling you to leave."

"Here," the necromancer replied, "Keep it. So if she has the other one you will know it's her. And you can come find me."

The door shut tightly.

I exhaled, my mind swimming. _Was he gone? Was he really gone?_

The master reappeared. In his grasp was one of the glass slippers I had left behind in the woods that night. _The necromancer found it and tracked me here_ , I realized.

I stared up as the master stood before me, his hand outstretched, offering the slipper. I took it.

"Okay then, Belle," he said at last. "My name's Adrian. It's nice to meet you."

He took off his mask, letting it clatter to the floor. The impasse was broken.

 _It's him_ , I realized, looking upon is face. _The screaming boy from my dreams._

I was right. He _is_ real.


	9. Chapter 9

I liked him much better without the mask—the master was no longer a mystery to me. I knew him, and had known him for a very long time. His face was as familiar as my own, but in person he was not the screaming boy in the dream; his hazel eyes were strong and full of wonder. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me _: how is this real? What does it mean?_

Adrian offered me his hand and brought me to my feet.

"He's gone," he said. "But the necromancer will not give up so easily. Whatever his plan is, it's nefarious. I could feel it."

I swallowed my fear.

"You must be starving," said Adrian.

We returned to the dining room, my legs only wobbling slightly, and took our places.

I poured myself a large cup of wine and drank deeply.

"I'm glad only you can open the door," I said at last. "As long as it keeps _him_ out. But how can I ever leave now?"

"We'll just have to take care of the necromancer," said Adrian. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips.

"How did you know what he is?"

Adrian hesitated before fixing his eyes upon mine. "I could see it easily. As soon as I opened the door I could sense it; his evil hangs like a curtain around him. But he won't dare try to hurt you here."

"How can you be sure of _that_?"

He offered me a half smile and sipped his wine.

 _How can I trust this person?_

"I—I think I need some fresh air," I admitted, standing and grabbing my cup. Out in the garden hall, the doors were wide open still; this time, the snow was gone. The chill that had filled the air was absent, replaced with a light coolness. I gasped as I stepped onto the garden terrace; the weather had changed completely.

"It's changed," I said aloud. "I've never seen weather behave this way before."

"Blackhill isn't like other places," Adrian replied.

"And you're not like other people."

We sat down at the top of the steps leading to the garden. I had a hundred questions in my mind— _Who are you? What is this place? Why did you help me?_ But for some reason, it did not feel like a time for questions.

"I think I have to kill him," I said.

Adrian was silent, contemplative.

"I don't know how to kill someone," I added sadly.

"I do," he said quietly.

We exchanged a long glance.

"What do I have to do?"

"It isn't nice," he warned.

"I didn't think it would be," I replied. "But you don't understand; I don't think there is any other way."

The silence was oddly comfortable. For a while we sipped from our cups with the summer moon shining through the muggy night sky.

"I'll be gone tomorrow," Adrian finally said. "I'll meet with you at dinner with a plan."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You really want to—help me?"

"There is more to this necromancer than can be sensed on the surface," he said. "I intend to figure out what it is he is after. Every sorcerer has a weakness—they're full of weaknesses. I can find it."

My hands were shaking, only slightly. "What would a sorcerer want with me?"

Adrian gazed at me for a long moment. "What indeed?"

He held his cup of wine out towards me, and we toasted and drank.

* * *

King Peter led his steed down the forest path yet again that hot, summer afternoon. He was no fool; he knew where his son was. He could hear the clash of swords and the occasional echoes of laughter at the bottom of the hill.

 _The boy is avoiding me_ , King Peter thought angrily. _He knows what he's done._

By the time he reached the bottom of the path and dismounted his horse the fighting had stopped. The clearing his son and his friends used for sparring was bathed in sunlight; the prince stretched out on a bench, a wet cloth soaking at his forehead, and his usual group lounged around, passing a cask to each other and taking deep swigs. King Peter regarded them with reluctant admiration; the scene reminded him of himself at that age. He wasn't always _King_ Peter: once, he was the prince. He was young and handsome, just like Stefan, and much wilder. His youth had been full of adventure and misadventure, but none of that was meant to be for Stefan.

 _Stefan must stay on this path_ , King Peter decided a long time ago. _He must not make the mistakes I did._

But the prince was stubborn, and would never know how much like his father he really was.

"I didn't see you at the council meeting," King Peter remarked as he stood over his oblivious son. "You were expected this morning."

Stefan peeked through the cloth on his face and groaned as his friends quietly slipped away through the trees, eager to avoid the king's wrath.

"We're going for a ride," said the king.

This part of the forest was deserted, as it belonged to the king, and there were many paths that wound down the hill and toward the village. It was on these paths that the king had taught his son to ride a horse.

"How can I help you, father?" Stefan asked wearily.

The king scoffed. "What is all this madness I'm hearing about a glass slipper? I'm going to give you one chance to explain before I shut this whole thing down."

"There's nothing to shut down," Stefan replied coolly. "I can't find her."

"Find _whom_?"

"Mary. A girl I met at the ball last week."

The king shook his head in confusion. "What does this have to do with summoning every maiden in the kingdom to try on a _glass slipper_? Did you know there has been chaos at the gates for _hours_?!"

Stefan stopped his horse abruptly and glared at his father.

"You told me I have to choose a wife by the end of the summer. Do you know how many girls I've talked to in my life? No—of course not, it has nothing to do with you," Stefan ranted, "And then I meet someone I actually like and she _disappears_. The only trace I have of her is a slipper left behind. I'm sorry there's chaos at the gates, father, but I'm doing what you asked, whether or not you still want me to. I'm going to find her."

King Peter scoffed again. "Why are you going after a girl who ran away when there are hundreds of suitable girls who would _never_ run away?"

"She wasn't running from me," Stefan said defiantly, "and I think she's in trouble. She may need my help."

King Peter sighed heavily and they resumed their trek down the path.

"I chased girls when I was your age," said King Peter. "And it didn't end well for me. I don't want you to make the same mistakes. Can't you just stay out of trouble?"

Stefan grinned to himself. It was a question the king had asked him all of his life.

"What trouble have I ever been in?"

King Peter ignored him. "Your plan was ill-conceived. You are looking for one girl among thousands, and then you invite them back to the palace to try on the slipper to find her. What did you _think_ would come of this?"

"It's part of my plan, actually," said Stefan. "I didn't think I would find her this way. Actually—I was looking for two others. Two maidens who have claimed to be her step-sisters. I was suspicious of their behavior at the ball, and then I found out she was illegally signed over to the custody of a man named Lord Terrowin. When she ran away from the ball I know he went after her. Father, he's a _necromancer_."

King Peter furrowed his brow in frustration. _Lord Terrowin_ , he thought. It wasn't the first time he had heard of the necromancer up to no good—in fact, he had been banished by the king's own father a decade beforehand for unspeakable crimes.

"You do not have my permission to pursue this," King Peter said decidedly. "No necromancer business for you. Stay out of it."

" _What_?"

"You heard me," said the king sharply. "You are my only son and I will not allow you to risk your life for a girl you don't even know."

"I don't expect you to understand," Stefan shot back stubbornly. "But I don't need your permission to go on a hunt."

" _A hunt_?" The king was beside himself now.

"That's right," said Stefan mildly. "I'm taking my best comrades beyond the kingswood and into the wild forest. They've sworn to help me find her."

"The necromancer is a skilled hunter," the king said furiously. "You do not have what it takes to go up against him. I absolutely forbid it."

Stefan shrugged. "It's done, father. We're leaving at sunrise. Don't be upset—you're the one who threw that wretched ball in the first place. If you didn't want me to fall in love, you shouldn't have interfered so much in my life."

"Oh—you're in _love_?" The king laughed. "You don't even know what love is."

Stefan fixed him with a cold stare. "As I said: I'm leaving in the morning. And I won't come back until I find her."

The prince dug his heels into his steed and trotted away from his father, up the hill and through the trees. King Peter watched him go with dread in his heart.


	10. Chapter 10

Finally I slept a night through without dying in my dreams or waking up in terror. In fact, I slept in far longer than usual—when I awoke the sun was golden in the sky and my tray of breakfast food was long cold.

For a funny second I even forgot where I was. And whom.

 _Belle_ , I reminded myself. _I'm Belle_.

I could hear voices in the castle again—always in the distance, just around the corner or in the shadows. As I made my way to the library I began to wonder when the castle staff would reveal themselves to me. Not that I planned on staying that long anyway.

I spent the afternoon in the library poring over books old and new to me. I wanted to ask Adrian how he even came by a collection this grand and impossible— _but then again, that would be a silly question, wouldn't it? I don't even know the first thing about him or this place_.

 _He said we'd meet at dinner with a plan_ , I thought with comfort. Every hour that passed drew me closer to a way out—and answers.

The day grew late and there was no word from him.

I paced my room as the sun set. _Shouldn't he be back by now?_

Martha came in with a tray of food, her usual smile fallen.

"Has the master returned?" I asked her eagerly.

She set the tray down on my bed. "I'm afraid not."

My stomach began to knot with anxiety. "Has this happened before? How long is he usually gone for?"

"I don't know, dear Belle," she said.

 _Something's happened!_

Martha noticed the panic in my eyes. "There's no reason to fear," she said gently. "He'll return soon. He always does."

"I don't think this is like those other times," I said faintly.

I waited awake all night. I paced my room, the hallway, and even the front entrance of the castle. Adrian did not return.

 _The necromancer has him_ , I thought with dread. _And it's because of me_.

I fell asleep in a chair in the library just after sunrise then awoke again in my room some hours later. Martha appeared with food for lunch.

"Has he returned?" I asked again, this time unable to conceal the fear in my voice.

She shook her head somberly.

 _No_ , I thought desperately. _Not this again_.

"I can't open the door," I realized out loud. "If he never returns-"

"It will be alright," Martha said quickly. "Give it some more time."

There is a special place in Hell devoted to waiting. A place where time does not move, and if it does it does not do so in one's desired direction. I paced and paced some more, to where the suspense was beginning to numb me.

The view from my window yielded to the breathtaking expanse of the wild forest that surrounded the castle. As the sun dipped low in the sky, it bathed the green tops of the trees in gold. I sat upon my windowsill and watched it dissolve into darkness. My eyes fought to stay open _. I must stay awake_ , I thought _. If I dream I will die._

In the dead of night I was awoken by a commotion. The disturbance came from deep within the castle; and with it, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming heavily shut.

 _HE'S BACK_ _ **.**_

I dashed down stairs, winding my way through the castle breathlessly. The halls were dark and full of strange echoes. I headed towards the dining hall—empty. The garden hall was deserted. The library was dark and empty— _where is he?_

I rushed into the entrance hall, and nearly fell in to Clarkson, who was stationed with a brightly burning candelabra, grim faced and stiff as a board.

"Where is Adrian?" I demanded.

A deafening crack of thunder sounded and rumbled through the castle. I could hear a heavy storm fall upon us. Clarkson regarded me calmly.

"The master is unavailable at the moment. I advise you to return to your room."

"I heard the door," I said defiantly. "I know he's returned—is he alright? He was gone for a long time!"

Clarkson was unmovable. "I can confirm he has returned. He is still unavailable."

I wanted to argue with him, but I knew better. I turned furiously on my heel and returned to my room. Outside, the storm raged on through the night and the thunder rumbled continuously. I lay in the bed awake listening to it. Sometimes it didn't sound like thunder, though. It nearly shook the castle. There was something else- definitely something else there…

 _But are they screams_? I wondered. _Or howls?_

* * *

The day broke still and grey.

Adrian had undoubtedly returned in the night—but something was terribly, terribly wrong.

I could see it on Martha's face when she brought me breakfast. There was fear in her eyes.

"I've heard screaming," I told her, "or something like it."

She did not answer.

"You know what it is. Why won't you tell me?"

"Because I don't want you to be afraid," she said gently.

"Afraid?" I shook my head. "What is there to be afraid of? You told me I was safe here."

"You are safe-" she began to say, but was just then cut off by a howl—a deep, troubled sound coming from below. Her eyes were wide.

"I know its Adrian," I said. "I dreamt of these screams for years. It was a riddle with no answers, no clues. Now it's time for me to solve it."

"Belle, wait-"

It was too late. I stormed out of the room and made my way to the stairs. The horrible screams didn't sound quite human, though—they were too deep—but _could_ it be some kind of animal? Was there a wolf in the castle?

I found the wide doors to the library ajar, and light streamed into the hallway. I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Adrian was there.

He stood before the grand fireplace, his back to me.

"Adrian," I said calmly, approaching him cautiously. He was merely a figure framed against the fire; and then he turned. His clothes were torn in places, his hair fell lose around his neck, and his strong hazel eyes were rimmed with dark circles. He was as pale as ghost.

"What happened?" I asked him as I drew nearer. "Did the necromancer hurt you?"

He seemed to be struggling for words. "I thought I was stronger than this," he said, his voice tight with tension. "I was wrong. I'm losing control…"

I didn't know what to say. He was trembling, as if something inside of him was about to burst through. And then he fell to his knees, and a terrible, guttural growl sounded from inside his chest.

 _It sounds like a monster_ , I realized with a growing horror.

His gaze switched my way, a wild expression taking over his facial features. The veins upon his neck were bulging out against his skin; he swallowed hard as he saw me, and shook his head.

"Belle," he gasped, his hands balling into tight fists, "you must run!" As if being struck upon his back by a ruthless whip, he jolted and threw his head back and shrieked. There was a hideous cracking noise.

I was on my knees at his side, attempting to help him up. "You—you have to tell me what's going on, how can I help-" I reached for his hand and was met with a sharp pain; suddenly, a deep scratch across my palm was welling with crimson blood. I gasped and withdrew my wounded hand to realize too late that Adrian's hands were beginning to morph; his slender fingers becoming devilish and mighty claws, like that of a terrible creature.

 _A beast._

His hazel eyes met mine, a pair of untamed, raging eyes that I had no seen before. They pleaded with me only for a moment before hardening as Adrian became something… _else_.

His arms began to bulk as he threw himself back onto the floor, gasping and growling. A ripping of fabric signified that he was growing in size, his back widening and his spine tearing through his shirt. The next time our eyes met, he let out a dreadful roar. Initially I had frozen, captivated by this horrific metamorphosis. But now I was afraid. No—I was _terrified_.

Finally, I did as Adrian had told me to do; I turned and ran.

The beast roared again, and as I passed through the doorway I could hear a thunderous crashing behind me, as if several towering shelves of books had been ripped down upon the floor. I slammed the heavy door shut behind me to find a deserted hall way stretched out before me.

I pushed my feet as fast as they could take me down the corridor, looking for an escape. The beast was now slamming against the door, its echoes following me.

I had just rounded the corner when I heard the library door burst open, and now the Beast was after me.

I bounded through the castle until I reached the front hall, where Adrian had first pulled me inside and saved me from the hungry jaws of the forest wolves. The Beast was still following, for I heard its snarls ever behind me, its anger smashing everything in sight. I looked toward the door— _what do I do!?_

There was no time to think; not even for one second. I went to the door and placed my hand on the doorknob, bracing myself for the shock. It did not come; there was nothing. The beast roared furiously, charging through the corridor.

With shaking hands I opened the front door of the castle and rushed down the stone steps that led to the vine covered gate. I stole a glance behind me as I fled down the path to the gate, and as I made it through I saw the entirety of what Adrian had become:

The Beast was a creature of multitudes, all ferocious and powerful. He was covered in a heavy shag of fur, his savage eyes set beneath a strong brow upon a frightening, animal like face—and there, too, were fangs bared. He stood tall and hulking, covered in shredded bits of clothing and fur, brandishing his demon claws made for the ripping and tearing of flesh. As he stood poised in the doorway, I paralleled him at the gate, agape in terror.

With another threatening howl from the Beast, I tore back into the woods from which I had come, willing myself to move faster to get as far away as possible from this demon. Unsure if I was still being followed, I ran and ran until the point of no return. My hand bled and throbbed at my side, but there seemed not enough time to put the rightful amount of distance between the Beast and I before I could tend to it.

Back through the thick brush of the woods I traveled, blinded with fear. I ran until I was sure I would drop dead—and at last I came upon the main path through the forest ,of which I recognized from the night my carriage had been abandoned- but as I paused, catching my breath upon the road and wiping my bleeding hand across my skirt, another surprise was to meet me there.

"At last, Mary has finally come out of her hiding place." A cruel voice sounded from behind me. I whipped around to see none other than Lord Terrowin, tall and villainous, standing just a couple of feet from me.

I shook my head in utter disbelief. "No…" I breathed, backing away from him.

His smile revealed his long and pointed teeth. He lunged toward me in a flash, seizing me by my arms and gagging me with a cloth.

 _The necromancer will not give up so easily. Whatever his plan is, it's nefarious,_ Adrian had said. And I had fallen right into it.


	11. Chapter 11

"So you want to know something about fate?"

His breath was the stink of stale bread and tobacco. I could feel it on my ear as he spoke and I wanted to tremble, but a voice inside my head urged me not to show my fear.

"It's all a lie," the necromancer explained. He sat across from me now, perched upon a stool with a blade in one hand and a squirrel carcass in the other. Blood dripped softly upon the floor of the tent as he skinned the animal carefully. I was sitting too, though bound to a chair with ropes tight enough to leave angry red impressions in my skin. I dared not look away as he spoke.

"You are not fated to be here, sitting across from me in this manner, in this world," he said, his face smeared with an ashy powder. "You are here because I myself made it so. Do you understand?"

I did not answer.

He continued. "But I'm willing to make you a deal."

"I will not be your wife," I said.

The necromancer's painted lips spread and he let out a cacophony of shrill laughter. "I don't need a _wife_ ," he said at last. "I need a _beast_."

 _What?_

He finished skinning the squirrel and set it aside, wiping his bloodied hands on a filthy cloth. The tent was filled with animal carcasses in various states of preservation or decay. I was nauseous from the smell. He pulled his stool closer to me and sat down. "You know of what I speak."

Again I did not answer.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "if you play dumb. In any case you're smart enough to accept my offer."

"What offer?"

"For your life. You will deliver the beast to me, and after I have taken it you will be free to go— _if_ you fully cooperate." Here, the necromancer lit a pipe and stared thoughtfully into the smoke.

"I won't do it," I said.

The necromancer looked surprised at my answer, but then shrugged. "The beast will come looking for you. It won't be long now. All you have to do is lure it to the right spot. If you don't, I'll kill you and bag the creature without your help. I don't see why anyone would refuse such a generous offer."

 _But the beast is Adrian._ I would never betray him after he protected me, beast or no beast.

"Why do you want the beast? Why did you follow me and hunt me down this way?"

The necromancer blew a long chain of smoke that filled the tent with a foul haze. "I'm a hunter, at heart," he said casually. "And I knew you'd lead me to the greatest prize the world could ever give. And now you're the perfect bate. I must say, this has all fallen into place so idyllically."

"How could you have known about the beast?" I demanded. "I didn't even know there was one!"

The necromancer smirked. "Because you know nothing, dear Mary."

 _I'm trapped_ , I realized. _Choose or die_.

"I do not need you to agree," Lord Terrowin decided aloud, "for the beast will come looking for you whether or not you aid him in doing so. And he will find you, for I will make it easy. I would've liked to help you, for we share a great and terrible enemy. But it will be as you decide."

"What enemy do we share?" I asked, my fear giving way to confusion.

The necromancer's eyes glittered with malevolence. "Why, your wonderful fairy godmother. The beast is her creation—her prize. But soon it will be mine, and it will give me all the power I need to rise above her and the other wretched relics of the Old Ways. She's the one who cursed you."

My heart began to race. _He is a liar_ , I thought. _He is trying to bend me to his will_.

"Fear not, Mary. Your part in this will soon come to an end. The beast will probably kill you. Or worse." He arose from his perch and departed the tent, leaving me ensnared among the ropes. I sat in a silence so hollow I could almost feel it.

After what seemed like forever alone in the tent, Lord Terrowin returned.

"I've nearly completed the trap. It's in need of but one final thing," he said, stooping down and dragging me up by the ropes I was bound with. He took me outside, where a light rain fell upon the small clearing in the woods.

"It's just a short walk away. I will give you that amount of time to change your mind. I do not know when we will meet again, unless you survive this. Really such a shame, we could've been great together." His words now burned as he pulled me through the trees. The dark powder on his face began to wash away in the rain. Slung around his shoulder was a great bow and thick arrows smeared with a putrid smelling substance at the tips.

As I stumbled through the wet, wild forest I silently prayed that the beast would not come.

 _Because someone is not getting out of this alive_ , I realized.

* * *

The necromancer led me to a larger clearing some distance from his camp. The rain continued at a steady pace, and in the distance there was a mighty echo of thunder.

 _If it storms, I could escape_ , I thought. The sky would darken, my scent would be aloof—and I would run. I would run away faster than I ever had before, so fast that the necromancer couldn't dream of catching me. _And Adrian would be saved._

God bless the summer storms.

The necromancer disappeared up an enormous oak tree with his bow and arrows, waiting with one at the ready for me in case I tried to run. I was to stand there in the open, Lord Terrowin told me, for he knew exactly how to draw the beast in this way. Once the beast entered the clearing, the arrow would turn from me to him.

 _How do I signal to the beast that this is a trap?_ I thought frantically.

 _Maybe he won't come. Maybe he knows it's a trap…_

Another rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, but it was undoubtedly closer. _Come on, storm, come to us. You have to cover me and save us._

I stood in the middle of the clearing, my hands bound tightly behind me, shivering in the wet haze.

Suddenly, there was a crowing in the distance. I looked up, my face bearing to the sky to perceive a hundred shadows; there was a tremendous flock of birds swooping over the clearing, emerging from an overhead cloud like blood spilling from an open wound. I watched them in awe as they descended, coming closer to the clearing in the woods. I looked over to where I knew Lord Terrowin was positioned in the tree; all I saw was a tree. My gaze returned to the sky—the birds were swooping down towards me. In an instant they were all around me.

I dropped to my knees, holding my head beneath my arms to protect myself as they swarmed; they were a dark, chattering blanket blowing in the wind. I felt nothing but the whooshing of air over me as they passed, and within the commotion, to my greatest surprise, I was delivered a letter. It thudded to the ground before me. It had been carried among the birds, who now flew towards the big tree Lord Terrowin occupied, encircling it within their dark grasp.

I snatched up the letter and tore it open despite my hands being bound, my eyes reading faster than I could conceive.

 _I think you understand now what I could not tell you before. Please trust me that I will not hurt you. I will lead you back to Blackhill as the beast. Then we will meet again safely._

 _I am so sorry for this._

The birds ornamented the tree in a roaring cacophony. Lord Terrowin was undoubtedly preoccupied with their presence—there was no way he'd be able to see me through the chaos they ensued.

As I turned to make way for the woods again, before I lost my chance—surely Adrian was ready for me, wherever he was—I stopped in my tracks as Prince Stefan entered the clearing on his horse. He was just as I had seen him last, princely, confident, and drenched, accompanied by two footmen with crossbows.

His eyes widened as we recognized each other.

"Mary? Is that you?" He dismounted his horse and sprinted across the field.

 _No_ , I thought. _Not like this. This can't be…_

"Stefan," I gasped.

He was at my side, drawing his sword and running it through the ties that bound my hands. "Tell me what has happened. Are you alright?"

"No—Stefan," I said quickly, my heart racing, "you have to go. This place is _dangerous_ -"

"Where is the necromancer?" he asked urgently. "I brought a team of men with me to capture him." He then noticed my wounded palm crusted with blood. "He's hurt you."

There wasn't enough time to explain what was going on; the flock of birds that had enshrouded the oak tree rioted through the branches, but I knew it would not stop the necromancer.

"He's—he's in the tree with a bow; if he sees you he will shoot you!" I desperately tried to warn him.

The prince stole a furious glance at the oak tree, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. He looked to his bowmen and nodded; they trotted across the clearing over to the tree, sending a volley of arrows in their wake up into the branches.

"You are safe now," he said quickly, undoing his cloak and draping it around my shoulders. "I've been looking for you for days; we've been on the necromancer's trail. I knew he had gone after you—why didn't you tell me you were in trouble?"

" _You're_ in trouble!" I said hurriedly, "I don't have time to explain. Please, just try to get as far away from here as fast as you can-"

There was a striking roar in the distance. It echoed through the woods from a short ways away. I shuddered as I heard it, and Stefan simultaneously drew his sword.

"It's not what you think," I said as Stefan began calling for his men.

Six king's men emerged from the trees, all armed and hurrying towards us with a host of dogs and horses. Just as I spotted them, a mortal cry sounded from where the two crossbowmen had pursued Lord Terrowin; one had been shot in the chest with an arrow, and in the chaos, the flock of birds retreated into the sky just as quickly as they had come.

Stefan looked to me, "I have been hoping all this time that I would find you again. Please, go with my men. They will make sure you can make it back to the kingdom safely. I will take care of the necromancer." With his sword brandished Stefan took off towards Lord Terrowin's hiding place.

I called after him: _don't go there. Please don't go there!_

And then entered the beast.

He came from the furthest side of the clearing, appearing as terrible and savage as before. The king's men balked at the sight of him, and even Stefan was stopped in his tracks as the beast snarled at the scene before him, his teeth and claws bared for battle.

"What is _that_ -" Stefan began to say, turning in apprehension at the sight of the beast, when one of Lord Terrowin's arrows whizzed out from the tree and shot him clean through his left shoulder. He was surprised only for a moment before crumpling to the ground.

"Stefan!" I shrieked, and my feet began to move towards him, but Lord Terrowin dropped out of the tree with his great bow and the beast was suddenly there, intercepting us.

The beast was twice the size of the tall sorcerer; his movements were impossibly quick. In one swift motion, the beast charged Lord Terrowin as he drew an arrow from his quiver and made to shoot. On the other side of them, the king's men rushed to Stefan's side, pulling him up onto his horse. I couldn't tell how bad his wound was, but I knew he was hurt.

 _Adrian_ , I thought, _I know you're in there. I trust you_.

The remainder of the king's men charged the beast with their arrows drawn. One soldier let his loose and it pierced the beast in the middle of his chest. The beast roared and stumbled forward, knocking the necromancer into the ground. The sky darkened and with a flash of lightning, and the heavy rain began to fall.

"Come with me," said a voice. "My horse is readied. The others will take care of the necromancer," he said urgently.

It was the prince's friend with the curly hair. His cloak was drawn up over his head as he took my hand.

"I can't," I said. He looked at me incredulously.

By now the men who had taken Stefan had disappeared from the clearing, and the remaining men were circling the beast and the necromancer, who now writhed in the mud, blood spilling from fresh claw marks down his arms. The beast was wounded too.

"Adrian!" I cried out over the static of the storm.

The beast's gaze met mine through the chaos. It trembled, weakened from its wound. Lord Terrowin cowered in the mud.

"What are you doing?" the prince's friend asked.

"Please," I said quickly. "Go to Stefan. The necromancer's arrows were laced with a deadly poison—I could smell it. He needs to get help _now_."

The boy seemed unsure, but I didn't give him the chance to respond. I turned to face the scene once more: the beast hesitated, was surrounded. I could almost recognize the look in its eyes— _Adrian's definitely in there_.

 _Come to me_ , I thought, gazing into the beast's eyes for a moment suspended in time. _I know it's you!_

Two king's men disappeared into the woods, Lord Terrowin now their prisoner. He had been easily subdued without his advantage. The three remaining men began to close in on the Beast, their intention to rescue me from what they believed to be a gruesome fate. The smallest of the trio hurled a stone his way, and the beast smashed it in the air with a heart stopping roar.

It was all the men could take; they took off running after their company, swearing obscenities in terror.

The beast then too rushed into the forest, though heading the opposite direction. I knew I was meant to follow.

The prince's friend did not stop me; but I was aware that he was watching as I took off after the beast.

It bounded through the woods, creating a path for me to follow in its wake. I pursued it through the winding and darkening forest until I lost sight—though the path was quite clear. After a difficult trek through, I finally discovered Blackhill looming above the trees with its darkened towers stretching high into the misty clouds. The storm was left behind, and the afternoon was giving way to a humid dusk.

I found Adrian lying on the front steps in a pool of blood. His eyes were closed and his chest heaved as he struggled for air. He was no longer the beast—he had morphed back into himself—but he was hurt badly.

"Martha!" I screamed towards the door of the castle, which stood ajar. She and Clarkson appeared and hurried down the steps.

An arrow was lodged through Adrian's chest. I trembled at the sight of it. _What if he dies?_ I thought frantically. _He cannot die!_

The three of us picked him up and carried him into the castle. His clothes were soaked in blood.

"Help him," I pleaded, tears unexpectedly rising to my throat. "Please, you've _got_ to help him…"

As the castle doors closed behind us, I didn't even look back.


	12. Chapter 12

Adrian's room was a shadowy, cavernous place, near the top of the castle. It sat between two towers, and the wide windows offered a sloping view of a balcony that overlooked the wild forest. There were so many paintings covering the walls—some looked to be portraits, hundreds of years old accompanied by tapestries woven with strange scenes of magic. There were bookshelves filled with books, cabinets that were closed tightly, and there was a large four-poster bed facing a fireplace framed by a wooden mantle. I stepped in quietly; Adrian was sleeping.

I tip toed around and silently lit the fire in his fireplace. Then, I pulled a chair up beside his bed and opened my book to the first page. _Winter's Heart_.

"My father used to say that reading could help mend any wound," I said quietly.

His breathing was slow and steady; the blankets were pulled up to his chest and covered the large bandage Martha had wrapped around him.

"And so many nights I felt like I couldn't go on," I continued, "when my step-mother made me feel like I was truly alone in the world. But I always hid books under my bed and stayed awake reading through the night. The stories made me feel brave—and loved, even if I was the only person in the world who loved me. Anyway, I think you'll like this one."

I did not know when Adrian would wake up. Martha was mum about his condition, though she insisted he would heal. There was nothing I could do to help, she said. I disagreed.

I began to read _Winter's Heart_.

Time floated away. As I read to Adrian the world around us floated away.

Lying upon the bed, his fingers twitched. I stopped reading momentarily in surprise. His fingers twitched again. Gently, and cautiously, I slipped my hand into his and held on to it. Then I continued reading.

* * *

A soft snow fell upon Blackhill as Adrian slept.

I sat upon my windowsill and reflected upon all that had happened.

 _Stefan was searching for me_ , I realized then. I hadn't even had the moment to think about that. _But why did he go after me?_ Maybe I shouldn't have run away at the ball; maybe he would've protected me then and neither he nor Adrian would be hurt right now. In my wardrobe I hung up Stefan's cloak—the one he had given to me before he was wounded. It was a heavy cloak of emerald green with a golden clasp. Even though I wanted to give it back to him, I couldn't bear to look at it as my guilt weighed down upon me. If there was anything I knew it was that the prince didn't deserve to die. The prince was _good_.

And hopefully Lord Terrowin was locked away in a dark cell somewhere, never to see the light of day again. In any case he no longer haunted my dreams.

* * *

Prince Stefan awoke suddenly, his hair dampened with a feverish sweat and his blood pulsing rapidly through his veins. It was pain that had awoken him, a pain he had not thought to be real.

The wound in his shoulder was no normal wound; the necromancer's attack had a sinister touch. Stefan could feel the poison coursing through his body and it made his blood run cold and his skin burning hot. The one reason he wasn't screaming from the pain was because his best friend Marius had given him an extra dosage of pain serum—so much that the prince could hardly see straight.

"What happened to Mary?" Stefan asked as soon as he was well enough to speak coherently.

Marius' eyebrows drew together as he hesitated to answer. "I don't know."

 _I had nearly saved her_ , he thought to himself over and over again, _how could I have let this happen?_

When he arrived home wounded and unconscious, his father set the castle in a furious discord. Lord Terrowin was brought in, shackled by every limb, and thrown into the tightest cell of the dungeon. King Peter was already preparing an execution for him. The castle doctors were at Stefan's side at every hour, fighting against the terrible fever the wound he suffered from brought upon.

Now that he finally had the strength again to walk despite the agony in his shoulder, Stefan slipped into some robes and called for his guards to lead him downstairs to the dungeons. They reluctantly obeyed him, watching closely his every step in case he suddenly fell unconscious from being so weakened by the poison.

Stefan entered the dungeon alone, ordering his men to remain at the base of the stairs to wait for him. With a single torch, he made his way to the very back of the chamber. When he came upon Lord Terrowin's cramped cell, at first the light from his torch fell upon an eerily empty space.

"Show yourself," Stefan ordered.

Lord Terrowin slowly emerged from the folds of darkness, his eyes gleaming gold in the light, casting dark shadows around his face. His stare was treacherous, but Stefan perceived him fearlessly. He knew he could get him to talk.

"Self-righteous prince, at last we meet. I've heard much about you," the necromancer hissed.

"I've heard much about serpents," Stefan responded, holding his torch up to illuminate his face, "and I understand that the only way to kill them is to cut off their head."

Lord Terrowin's laughter was a repetitive wheezing, for much of the air had been previously knocked out of him by Stefan's guards. "You will ask me where the girl is. I know you've been searching for her. I saw the way you looked at her; I could give you answers. But I won't."

"Your one and only salvation lies in your confession," Stefan declared steadily, "I would kill you right now if you admitted to leading Mary to her death."

"Perhaps I did," the sorcerer conceded indifferently, "for no doubt the Beast ripped her to shreds."

Stefan swallowed hard as his heart dropped in his chest. "You will pay for this. Make no mistake of it. You will pay with the flesh of your blackened heart. I will rip it from your very chest if I find Mary has been hurt."

"We can make a deal." The necromancer suggested suddenly, gripping the dungeon bars with ashen knuckles. "I can lead you to the Beast."

Stefan clenched his teeth, gazing at his prisoner with hatred.

Lord Terrowin rustled his chains as he tried to inch closer. "If you hunt the Beast, you will find the girl. Dead, or alive."

It was his greatest fear that he was already too late. The wound he suffered from prevented him from leaving the castle—it kept him feverish, and the pain refused to subside. It would be at least another few days before he could set out again, seeking Mary. One last time.

"I will find her myself," Stefan declared. "My company will have the advantage of the Beast. In the meanwhile, you will rot here and prepare for the end of your time."

The necromancer again laughed his terrible wheezes. "Does it feel like you have something mortal festering inside of you?"

The prince froze at his words, regarding Lord Terrowin with an icy captivation.

"Because you do," Lord Terrowin's voice lowered to a wicked whisper, "The poison I put on my arrows have no cure. It is killing you, however slowly."

Stefan turned away from him, refuting his words with silence. He began to walk away.

"And the pain only gets worse! You will die in agony!" the necromancer called after him, before breaking into a cacophonic shrieking laughter.

It was Lord Terrowin's first confession.

* * *

I stood upon the frosty steps of the garden hall gazing into the night sky. It was resplendent with countless shimmering stars, and a moon so full and glowing that I felt I could reach out and touch it.

 _This place is so beautiful_ , I thought. _Like it's not even truly part of this world._

I had heard the music again, and it drew me from my room and out to the garden where the cool air sang and glistened. A cup of wine kept me company until I heard someone approach from the hall.

"Good evening," said Adrian.

I spun around and was immediately at a loss for words.

 _How are you standing here? How are you alive? This is impossible…_

He was dressed in dark clothes, and his hazel eyes were rimmed with darkness, which made his skin appear pale—or maybe it was just from the moonlight. I couldn't help but think to myself, _how can someone look so fragile and strong at the same time?_

"I didn't think you'd still be here," he said. "Since the necromancer has been taken care of."

I gazed at him in astonishment. "You're crazy," I said.

He laughed.

"Yes," I said after a moment. "I think the necromancer has definitely been taken care of. But I'm not leaving until I find out why we are supposed to be a part of each other's lives."

Adrian sighed. He looked tired. "I think I know why. But it's a long story."

"I _love_ stories!"

He glanced at me with a smile as a raven materialized from the night sky and swooped down, landing upon Adrian's shoulder. It squawked and nibbled at his collar.

"Is that your bird?" I asked.

Adrian stroked its feather gently with his hand. "Not a pet, no. But a friend."

The bird glanced my way. "Mary!" It squawked. I stared at in disbelief. _I've met this bird before…_

"Here," said Adrian, and he approached me with the bird on his shoulder. "You can pet him, he likes it."

I reached out cautiously towards it, my fingers apprehensive. The bird flinched as I traced my fingers down its wings. I withdrew my hand hastily.

Adrian chuckled. "Don't be afraid of him." Gently, he brought my hand up to the bird's neck. The raven blinked and leaned in to my touch.

"You remind me of the girl in the story," said Adrian.

"Hmm? What story?"

"The one you were reading. About the enchanted winter."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't know if you were listening," I admitted.

He smiled weakly. "It was nice. Thank you for that."

I fixed my gaze upon his. "I'm ready to know," I said. "Everything that has happened since I've met you—it's amounting to something; I can feel it. If you know why it is I've wound up here with you, then tell me now, because I think we are in for quite a story of our own."

Adrian averted his gaze for a moment. "I know we must do this," he said slowly. "But the beginning may be difficult for you."

I took a deep sip of the wine.

"There's a book in the library that tells a story of a boy and a girl who were both cursed by an evil enchantress," said Adrian. "I read it a lot when I was a kid. The boy and the girl were destined to be cursed—but they were also destined to find each other and break each other's curses. If they could do that, then they would be free."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I don't know what happens," said Adrian. "The end of the story was ripped out of the book. Anyway, it's us. We're the characters in the story."

"I'm not cursed," I said. "I would know if I were cursed."

Adrian looked at me with sorrow in his eyes. "Have you ever met a fairy before?"

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. "Yes…"

"And did she do you a favor?"

My blood was running cold, but my palms felt sticky and hot. Where was he going with this?

"Her—her name was Pandora. She helped me escape from my home where I was a prisoner, about to be sold off to the necromancer. She _helped_ me. She didn't curse me."

"Whatever she did to you, I will undo," said Adrian. "You have my word."

I sat down upon the steps and put my head in my hands.

After a moment Adrian sat down beside me. "The Enchantress is a deceiver. It's not your fault—there was no way you could've known. But that's why you are here; that is why we are supposed to be in each other's lives. We have another task upon our hands."

A tear escaped my eye and rolled off my cheek and into the snow. Suddenly I felt Adrian take my hand into his.

"It's going to be okay," he said gently. "Since I've met you, I've never felt so brave. If there is anything I believe in—it's _you_. Do you think you could believe in me too?"

I looked up. "Of course. I believed in you before I even knew you were real."

"Excellent," said Adrian, taking a sip of my wine. "Then it is _you_ who will defeat the beast."


	13. Chapter 13

"Good morning, Mistress Belle," Martha said, bringing in breakfast on a tray.

I opened my eyes, but barely. The sun streamed into my room warm and golden and I could hardly welcome the sight after staying awake all night with Adrian, searching his library for the book he told me about. The one that told our story. I was hoping to somehow find a clue on how to defeat the beast, but alas, neither of us could find the book.

"Awaken, awaken, fair maiden, fair maiden," Martha said in a sing-song voice. She playfully grabbed my feet over the covers. I laughed and yawned deeply.

"The master has a gift for you," she said excitedly.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, sitting up in the sunlight streaming onto the bed. I blinked in the haze.

Upon the bed Martha set down a gift box wrapped in light blue paper. I stared at in astonishment. "A gift? But why?"

She beamed.

I reached for the box and slipped away the paper. I gasped at what I found inside.

" _My mother's dress_!"

What had once been torn, soiled, and ruined was now restored and more beautiful than ever. My mother's dress was resplendent in silver, woven intricately with shimmering gems and delicate silk. I pulled it from the box and gazed at it in awe—it wasn't exactly the same as before, I noticed. There was something new there—

I examined the dress closely, my eyes tracing over the delicate patterns woven into the sleeves. Before there had just been plain fabric, but now faint, silver roses blossomed discreetly throughout the dress. The detail was stunning.

"I don't know what to say," I admitted. "this is so beautiful. This means _so_ much to me…"

Martha appeared elated. "Tonight! Will you wear it tonight?"

" _Tonight_?"

"Tonight we celebrate," she gushed. "Tonight the castle will awaken to meet you. You are the girl who was promised."

 _What does that mean?_

I blushed, and laughed uncertainly. "What is this all about?"

Martha beamed, and plopped down next to me, her eyes alight with excitement. "Oh dear Belle," she said. "Can't you _feel_ what it's all about?"

* * *

So that evening I put on the dress, this time not as Mary, but as—

"Belle," I said aloud to myself as I stood in front of the mirror. "Yes," I said gazing at my reflection for a suspended moment. "This will do."

There were butterflies in my stomach and something hanging in the air. I had felt this feeling before, just once, not so long ago. The castle filled with music—not just piano, this time, but what sounded like a band of strings. From my room I heard the faint sound of voices, too. And then Martha appeared, dressed up and resplendent with joy.

"Oh!" She exclaimed when she saw me. "You take my breath away! How gorgeous you are in that dress, like an _angel_!"

I opened my mouth to say thank you, but my words came out nervous and weak. "I can't believe Adrian is doing all of this for me," I admitted.

"The master awaits you downstairs," she replied, "and there are so many ready to meet you tonight."

My knees were shaky as I walked myself through the halls of Blackhill—once dark and full of shadows, now lit up with candles, torches, and lingering voices. It was like walking into Prince Stefan's castle all over again—but this time was so different, in every way.

I reached the top of the stairs leading down into the main hall and hesitated there.

Down below the room was filled with people. The hall was lit with three gleaming chandeliers; the tall French doors were open to garden hall, where even more people streamed in and out of, lingering, talking, laughing, drinking, dancing. I stared at it all in amazement—where did all of these people even come from? Or had they been here all along?

That's when I noticed Adrian standing at the bottom of the stairs. Our eyes met, and that feeling crashed over me again—the one I had felt before—but this time it was stronger, something I simply would not be able to ignore…

Adrian ascended the steps. He held out his hand to me, his eyes never leaving mine. Without a word I took it.

The crowd parted for us as he led me through the hall. So many faces peered at me with curious eyes, eyes full of wonder or disbelief. I even glimpsed Clarkson and Martha in the crowd watching on in silence.

Adrian turned to face me, his hazel eyes full of a strange intensity. He was dressed in a black leather doublet, his dark hair combed back away from his face. The color had returned to his skin. Tonight I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

"These are the people of Blackhill," he said. "They're my family, and they've sworn to protect you as I have. We are all… happy that you're here, Belle."

I gazed around at the faces that filled the hall, and the hundreds of eyes peering back at me with curious expressions of wonder. _So these are the ghosts_ , I realized. _I never thought I'd see them…_

"Where have they been all this time?" I whispered to him.

"Hiding," Adrian replied under his breath. "They can't be seen unless they want to."

Just then, the small band of violinists struck up a lively tune and the castle staff began to pair off, filling the hall with dancing.

Adrian and I exchanged a hesitant glance.

"Adrian… do you think you could ask me to dance?"

He smiled.

Our nervous hands hooked together and I moved in closer to him, placing his hand gently onto the small of my back. _Just breathe_ , I thought. How silly my nervousness made me feel—but never had I been so aware of every part of me before. At the center of the hall we danced, and even though others swayed and waltzed around us, I forgot about them, as if it were all some kind of dream.

Adrian smelled of bergamot, star anise and olive blossoms. His eyes were the color of a jungle at sunset and they lit up profoundly whenever he smiled. And as he smiled, I saw someone else there in his face.

And then it struck me: _He looks like Stefan_!

"What is it?" he asked, noticing the curiosity in my eyes.

"Nothing," I said. "Say—how about we talk? Do you think we could grab some cups of wine?"

In a few passing moments we stepped out onto the warm garden terrace. I couldn't stop staring at him, and he was beginning to notice. "I'm not going to change into the Beast tonight," he said reassuringly.

"I'm not afraid of the Beast."

"I am," he said.

I was taken aback; it didn't seem like Adrian was afraid of anything.

 _That's stupid—everyone is afraid of something._

I pondered for a moment before speaking again; Adrian, so full of mysteries, was slowly becoming clearer to me. But there was still so much I did not understand.

"You say the castle staff here is your family," I said slowly. "But where are your parents? Did they leave you alone here?"

There was a flash of sadness in his eyes as he looked away and I immediately wished I hadn't asked him—but yet, I wanted to know. I needed to know.

Adrian took a deep breath. "My mother died ten years ago. She was from a land very different and far from here—a land much older than this, with different laws of man and nature. This castle was her ancestral home. She shared it with her sister, Severa. When my mother died Severa cursed me and bound me here."

"You mean to say- your _aunt_ is the Enchantress?"

He nodded. "Severa and my mother come from a long bloodline of magic. My aunt is the most powerful sorceress I can think of."

"But why would she do this to you?"

"Because she needs me," he said. "Severa has harnessed the magic in my blood, using my curse to keep me under her control. I've done everything I can in my power to keep her out of Blackhill, prolonging whatever plan she has to use me for, but as you can probably tell, the enchantments on this castle have been coming undone. That's why I need your help, Belle. I need to break this curse."

"How can she get away with this?" I asked.

Adrian shrugged. "She is the last member of my family that still lives," he said. "There is no one left to stop her, but me."

My mind was racing. "And your father?"

"I never met him," said Adrian. "And my mother never spoke of him. Not even once."

"I'm sorry," I said.

He smiled weakly. "Don't be. It's hard to miss someone you never knew. My mother, though—well, I at first thought she was sick. It didn't make sense; she was always so strong and willful, smart and filled with life, and then one day something took hold of her and drained her of life. Then she was gone. I was ten years old—just a child—but I didn't believe she had just gotten sick. Not after I found out what had been put her in her tea. Severa—her own sister—had killed her. And then she cursed me."

I impulsively took his hand into my own and held on to it. "Adrian," I said. "We _will_ break your curse. And then we will avenge your mother."

I could see the courage and fear conflicting in his eyes. "She knows about you," he said. "And because the enchantments that were put in place to protect Blackhill are coming undone, it's only a matter of time before she makes her move. She is going to try and separate us; it's easy to do when she can control the Beast."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"It's in that book I was telling you about," he said. "The one where the end is missing. I'm sure Severa destroyed that part."

I thought for a moment, my heart sinking. "But if I don't know how to break your curse, then…"

"Then we'll just have to trust each other," said Adrian.

I glimpsed at him in the silver moonlight. "To trust someone is a great and terrible thing."

He smiled. "Isn't it?"

"Ahem," someone cleared their throat.

Clarkson stood silhouetted against the golden light of the garden hall. Behind him the castle staff continued to dance and mingle in the music.

"Master Adrian, Mistress Belle," he said, "your dinner is served."

* * *

The dining hall table was laid with a feast stretching nearly twenty feet. The butterflies in my stomach continued to flutter, though, and I could hardly imagine eating more than a bite of food. I couldn't say why I was feeling so nervous—was it being around so many new people? Was it the tantalizing mixture of fear and courage warring in my heart? Or was it because of the way Adrian looked at me?

I admit, I didn't want him to take his eyes off me.

At dinner I was introduced personally to much of the castle staff—the strange ghosts that had raised Adrian and helped protect him from the Enchantress. There was the jolly cook, Cooky, the seamstress, Ella, the master of arms, Sir Daltos, and countless more. From what I understood, they were bound to Blackhill the same as Adrian, though they were relics of the past—not completely dead, but existing for the purpose of the castle itself. When they looked at me I could see hope in their eyes and I guarded my fear carefully.

After dinner the castle grew quieter and the staff slowly began to vanish back into the shadows. Upon midnight, it was just Adrian and I left sitting at the table.

"Tomorrow I will change into the Beast," Adrian said. "I can't control it all the time yet, so I give myself the chance to run wild and use up as much magic as I can before changing back. Now that the necromancer is gone I can venture outside again."

"I see," I said. "I'd still like to find that book you were talking about. Maybe I'll spend the day searching for it in the library. If the answer to breaking your curse is in a book, then I'm the perfect person to find it."

He smiled. "Belle, you are so much more than that. You can't even imagine."

I was caught off guard by his words. I looked at him in surprise as he finally stood and offered me his hand. We walked to the stairs in the grand hall, the chamber now dim with the dying candlelight.

I looked into his eyes again, wondering what to say but unable to find the words. He seemed to have the same problem. We stood for a silent moment before he cleared his throat.

"Sleep well then, Belle," he said.

There was something between us that was not there before. Upon my worst impulse I would've told him that my heart felt both weak and strong when I looked at him. That the butterflies still hadn't gone away. That I was falling in love.

Instead, I gave him a polite smile and nod. "Good night, Adrian."

And so whatever could have been said at the bottom of the stairs would linger there until the end of time, and I went to sleep and dreamed of the enigmatic boy with hazel eyes. The one named Adrian.

* * *

The kingdom was buzzing with rumors: _Prince Stefan was wounded by the necromancer, Prince Stefan was attacked by a Beast, Prince Stefan is searching for a mysterious girl…._

 _Prince Stefan is dying._

King Peter was nearly ill with fury—his son, his only son and greatest hope had directly disobeyed him and suffered a terrible price. Every doctor in the kingdom was called upon Stefan's bedside. The arrow had been removed and examined thoroughly, where a substance of mortal peril had so infected the wound. The prince's left shoulder was dressed and redressed with every healing herb that could be summoned in the land, and so often the prince slept through his pain…

But when he was awake, the king was even more afraid.

"I have to find Mary," Stefan insisted through his pain. "There was a beast—a creature unlike any I had ever seen before. It was huge, and resembled not only a lion but also a bear, a bull—you name it, the beast had it. Father, listen to me! It's going to kill her!"

Sweat beaded the prince's forehead, and the color had been drained from his face as he lay tangled in his bed sheets. King Peter gazed down at his son with sorrow. "There's nothing I can do for her," he said.

"Yes there is," Stefan maintained firmly. "Make the call: there must be a hunt for the Beast. We will set a reward for its capture. Every man capable of hunting will be scouring the wild woods by sunset. Please, father, we must do this."

The king was at a loss for words. He stared down upon his son, at the intensity in his eyes, at the pain contorted in his face.

"If I call for a hunt," King Peter said slowly, "will you swear to relax and heal until the doctors find you are recovered?"

"I know, I know; you don't want me going anywhere," Stefan replied bitterly.

The king reached for a chair and pulled it up to his son's bedside. He sat down and leaned forward. "You need to understand," he said softly, "that we live in a dangerous world."

"I'm not nearly as naïve as you want me to be," Stefan said. "I understand what this is all about—what it's always been about. You're leaving. You've been planning it for years. You're going off with that mysterious, priceless map of yours and you'll leave this land behind, putting it in my hands, so you can resume your life of adventure. That's the deal and I'm ruining that for you now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the king said. "We can discuss all of this nonsense when you're in your right mind again. Until then, take your medicine. All of it. Don't strain yourself. The doctors say they are doing all they can to fight off this infection."

"Make the call," Stefan repeated. "Make it today. I want every hunter in the land searching for the Beast. We will put a large price on its head and for Mary's safe return."

King Peter suppressed a sigh. There was no more he could say to the prince. Through his fever, consciousness, and unconsciousness, the king watched over Stefan with a burgeoning fear so deep he didn't dare say it aloud. But the doctors had said it, though in hushed whispers.

 _The prince is dying._

The king gazed at Stefan's ghost-like complexion, his eyes glazed over in anguish. "As you wish, my son."


	14. Chapter 14

Lord Terrowin waited silently in his unlit cell for days listening to the voices and movements of the castle. From his position deep in the dungeons he could hear the passing words of the guards occupying the dungeon: a trial would take place for his crime, but an execution was inevitable. The kingdom was preparing a hanging. Should Stefan die, then it wouldn't be a hanging: the king's wrath would be furious and cruel.

None of these things made the necromancer flinch.

The cold, dirty stone upon which he sat for days was neither here nor there to him, nor was the hanging darkness that enshrouded him like walls meant to suffocate: Lord Terrowin was busy, concentrating, making a call.

At last the call was answered.

There was a glimmer in the darkness—a white light, both beautiful and haunting. From it came a voice.

"And what have you gotten yourself into, necromancer?"

Lord Terrowin opened his eyes. "What can I say," he whispered. "I ran into the winds of fate and have been blown off course. You know all about that, I assume."

The Enchantress smirked. She had now materialized fully, her long white hair and crown of dark crystals striking in the semidarkness. "Just because I answered your call doesn't mean I'm going to help you," she said. "So mind whom you are speaking to."

"I've never trusted fairies," said the necromancer. "But I'm willing to make you a deal."

Severa scoffed. , and then laughed, her laughter ringing like bells and filling the sullen, empty space of the dungeon. The necromancer winced. "Ssshh!"

"And why would I make a deal with you?" she asked. "Look at you—you're rotting in the king's dungeon. This is certainly not my problem."

The necromancer smiled. "I know what your plan is for the king. I know your plan is being thwarted. That's where I can help. But you need to get me out of here. _Now_."

Severa raised her eyebrows, her beautiful face both otherworldly and human. "Maybe I'll just let him kill you if I find out you've been in my business, necromancer."

"It's—uh, how do they say? Water under the bridge," said Lord Terrowin. "The girl has found your Beast. I know she's the one who can break the curse. And you don't want that, do you?"

Severa pursed her lips tightly, drawing air in sharply through her nostrils. "My nephew is still under my control. And since you've already taken care of the king's son, you've actually made things a lot easier for me now. Originally I was going to have to dispose of the prince myself instead of risk making a switch. One prince for another."

"It's really a terrible plan," the necromancer rebutted. "Your nephew's got the castle reinforced to withstand your power. You can't even reach him. But I can. Let me out of here and I will do what I do best."

"What is it you do best, necromancer? Raise the dead?" Her tone was sarcastic.

Lord Terrowin shrugged. "The boy won't see it coming. And neither will the girl. I can bring you either one of them."

Severa seemed to consider it for a moment. "Don't touch my nephew," she said at last. "I need him just the way he is. The girl, though, yes. I suppose we can make this work."

"Then it is done. You will free me and in exchange I will deliver you the girl. After that, our business is over."

"And if you fail to deliver me the girl," Severa added, "I will kill you."

"Ah-ah," said the necromancer. "I cannot do it by myself. I will stage the attack on the castle, but one of your men need to retrieve the girl."

Severa scowled. "This better not be some kind of trick, necromancer. I know what you're about—I know you're obsessed with the Beast. He belongs to me. If anything happens to my nephew and the girl is not handed over, then _you_ will pay the price. _Do you hear me_?"

The necromancer gritted his teeth. Just then, voices could be heard in the corridor outside the cell. The guards were approaching his prison.

"Do we have a deal?" The necromancer said tightly.

Severa smirked. "More or less."

A guard began unlocking the cell door from the outside. Lord Terrowin stood. "Then what are we waiting for?"

When the guard opened the door the cell was empty; the necromancer had vanished without a trace.

* * *

Prince Stefan could only lie in bed, for the pain had shut down his body entirely. While he was awake strange visions wracked his mind—images and scenes from his entire life. And when he slept he dreamt of something he could never remember dreaming of before: the ocean.

The feeling was like none other. Surrounding him was the vast expanse of water; warm and frothy, carrying his body for miles as if it were light as a feather. Stefan relaxed upon the waves and gazed into the sky, the mirror of the ocean. The sun touched his skin.

"Stefan—wake up!"

The prince's eyes bolted open and the ocean dissipated. The pain from the wound in his shoulder had consumed every inch of him, and now it all returned at once. Stefan moaned as he tried to sit up.

Marius leaned over him, his eyes full of panic. "The necromancer is gone," he said.

And just as he said, the castle alarm went off, and the kingdom was alerted to the danger by the sound of bells.

The prince was still regaining his wits. "Gone?"

"Disappeared—escaped- no one really knows!"

"He's going after Mary," Stefan said. "It's time."

Marius hesitated.

"Give it to me," Stefan insisted.

"You're my best friend-"

"—then you have no reason not to," the prince interrupted curtly. "I can't even move from this pain. Give me the serum because it's now or never."

Marius clutched his satchel, where inside he stored what the prince had asked for.

"Just so we're clear," Marius said carefully. "This will only put a temporary stopper to your condition. Once the serum has worn off death is imminent—even if we somehow find a cure to the poison coursing inside of you."

"There is no cure for what's coursing inside of me," Stefan replied. "I understand that. Give me the serum so I can at least do one good thing before I die."

"Don't say that," said Marius sharply. "Don't say 'die'. The necromancer could've lied. There is still hope."

Stefan smiled weakly through his pain. "He didn't lie, Marius. I'm going after him and I'm going to save Mary this time. I'm your prince and I command it."

They sat in silence for a long time before Marius pulled the vile out of the bag and handed it to the prince.

"Once you drink that there's no turning back," Marius said.

"Oh come on now; you're my best friend. You're not supposed to give up hope," said Stefan. Then he swallowed the entirety of the serum in one swift gulp. "When will it start working?"

"Soon, I think. Give it an hour."

Stefan nodded. "That's all I need. Call Lance and tell him to prepare my horse. Go find the others; we have a mission to complete."

The sound of bells echoed out of the castle and throughout the kingdom. A sense of danger hung in the air. King Peter made his way to his son's room and found that just like the necromancer, he too was gone without a trace.

* * *

There was another summer storm raging over Blackhill as I searched in the firelight of the library through all the thousands of books, looking for the one that could hold the answers to mine and Adrian's curses. I had to go through them one by one—and I would know it was there if the ending was ripped out, just as Adrian had said. After hours of this I grew tired of looking and curled up in a chair in front of the fire, staring into the flames as the sound of rain and thunder outside drew me into the world of dreams.

In the dead of night I awoke with a start. The front door had opened and the storm outside was raging harder than ever. I met Adrian in the front hall. He was soaked to the bone, his dark clothes sticking to him and his hair plastered to his face and neck. There was something wrong; I could see it in his eyes.

Without a word he reached deep into his shirt and brought out a dampened, folded piece of paper and handed it to me. My fingers held it carefully, unpeeling it to reveal its contents. It read:

 **BRING KING PETER THE HEAD OF THE BEAST.**

 **REWARD: 10,000 GOLD PIECES**

 **CHAMPION'S TOURNEY TO BE HELD IN A FORTNIGHT. WINNER WILL LEAD THE HUNT.**

Beneath the words was a drawing of the beast. Adrian's beast.

By the time my eyes had raked over the words and drawing my hands were trembling. I looked up at Adrian in speechless horror.

"I have to go," he said. "I can't stay here now."

"Adrian-"

"Belle," he said, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Leaving? But where will you go?" I asked frantically.

"I don't know. But this place isn't safe anymore, for either of us."

My heart was racing as the reality set in. The front door was still open behind Adrian and the storm seeped into the front hall.

"Come with me," he said, his eyes full of intensity.

The storm outside was nothing compared to the feelings crashing around inside of me. Of course I wanted to go with him, but what would it lead to? Would we find more danger? Would we fall into the hands of the Enchantress? What if one of the king's men found the Beast anyway? That familiar feeling was rising in my stomach again: fight or flight. I looked into Adrian's eyes.

And then he took me into his arms and kissed me on the lips.

Suddenly the answer was clear to me: there _will_ be fleeing, and there _will_ be fighting.

Because it is us against the world and we will win.


	15. Chapter 15

The day dawned cold and grey. I awoke to a severe tapping upon my window; it was the blackbird. I opened the window to let it in.

"Mary!" it screamed.

"No," I said firmly. "You will start addressing me by my new name now. I'm _Belle_."

"Mary!" it screamed again.

It fluttered out of my room and into the corridor just as Martha entered, not with the usual breakfast tray, but instead she carried a large, empty satchel. She appeared to be in good spirits.

"Good morning," she said. "The master has instructed me to help you pack for your trip."

She dropped the satchel onto my bed and opened my wardrobe, pulling out clothes to fold up. "Though I do insist you both eat something before leaving," she prattled on, "I know how excited you must be—a trip to the mountains! It sounds like a dream."

I raised my eyebrows— _why is she happy that we are fleeing?_

And then it hit me: Adrian couldn't tell the castle staff the truth. If he left any hint for the Enchantress to catch on to, then we would be found.

"Yes," I said quickly, "we are looking forward to getting a little fresh air." I tried my best to smile.

She beamed at me, her cheeks rosy with delight. I was going to miss her so much.

"I'm so glad you two are finally getting along," she said, stuffing my clothes into the satchel. Then suddenly she looked up, as if she were worried. "You two _are_ getting along, aren't you?"

I almost laughed.

The night before his lips had been against mine, and all the words we never said to each other were passed to me with the tenderness of his kiss. I could feel the incredible amount of strength he possessed, but with it I could also feel the fragility.

"He has been very good to me," I said. "He saved me from the wolves, and he saved me from the necromancer. We have become… good friends."

"You bring out the best in each other," she said wisely, "that's what _good_ friends do." She winked.

I tried not to blush. "Thanks for helping me," I said. "I don't have long before we leave, so I'm going to look through the library just once more."

I did not expect to find Adrian already there, though, standing in front of the fireplace, seemingly lost in contemplation. I hesitantly cleared my throat as I entered. He turned and regarded me with mild surprise.

"So" I said. "We're really doing this?"

"You can still change your mind," he said gently. "But I must go, or they'll find me and kill me. The king himself has called for my head."

"No, I'm going with you," I said, "and come what may."

Adrian smiled a little, though it was the bittersweet kind. "By the way, I—uh—have something for you."

He slipped a small box out of his pocket. "It will help you in the days to come," he said, holding it out for me.

I carefully opened it; inside was a thin silver chain and a pendant in the shape of a rose. The rose looked just like the ones that had been woven into the fabric of my mother's dress. I gasped when I saw it; if this was truly a gift for me, then it was the most lavish gift I had ever received in my life.

My fingers caressed the chain and I picked it up and examined it closer, and then Adrian fastened the chain around my neck. "It belonged to my mother," he said. "It's meant to keep you safe from the Enchantress. With my mother's totem guarding you _she_ won't be able to touch you."

I held the rose pendant in my fingers and gazed at it, thinking, _I want to wear this for the rest of my life_.

"It is an honor to wear it. You've done so much for me in this little time we've known each other."

Adrian smiled. "I just want you to be safe. That's what you came here for, isn't it?"

"I will never know why I came here," I said. "It could've been fate, or it could've been an accident. I'm suspecting both, actually."

We laughed. And then our laughter fell away.

"Have you ever done something like this before?" I asked him. "Run away from here, I mean."

"Once," he said mildly. "When I was twelve. It didn't end well."

"What happened?"

"Severa sent her minions after me. This was when the castle staff was still alive. When she recaptured me and brought me back here, the entire castle was empty. She told me she killed every single one of the staff to punish me for running away. And then she made them stay here, as they are now. That was when I swore to never use my powers other than to destroy her."

My stomach contorted in shock. "She killed them? She sounds like she is pure _evil_!"

Adrian pursed his lips together. "She _is_ evil. And she knows you are here, Belle. Promise you will not take off my mother's necklace."

"I won't," I said. "So, when do we leave?"

"I'm waiting to hear if the coast is clear. Our dark-winged friend is scouting the path. He should return soon."

As if it were summoned, the blackbird swooped into the library and landed on Adrian's outstretched arm.

"What did you see?" Adrian asked it.

"The dead! The dead!" it shrieked harshly.

Adrian and I exchanged glances.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Attack! Attack!" shrieked the bird. Then he fluttered out of the library in a flurry of frantic, ebony feathers.

"He's never said that before," said Adrian.

"Say—who is _that_?"

Standing outside the library window was some kind of strange shadow—no, a person or other, standing there looking in. A chill tremored down my spine as my eyes glued to the image: it was a woman; I could tell by the long, wispy clumps of hair that stuck out of her skull. She was thin, shriveled, her eyes hollowed and her mouth hanging open, impossibly slack with but a few teeth rotting inside. She was naked with bits of skin decomposed and the rest of her body was grey and blue; she was an animated corpse, standing outside the library window leering in at us with a dead smile.

I screamed so loud I nearly fainted.

The next thing I knew, I was in Adrian's arms.

"Belle—Belle!" he said quickly. "Look at me!"

The dead woman began knocking on the window with two fists, the glass shivering against her might. I clung on to Adrian tightly, my body shaking with fear. He held onto me just as tightly and spoke urgently into my ear. "We're being attacked. We're going to have to fight. Belle, look at _me_. Trust me!"

I forced myself to look at him, even though all I could hear was the dead woman's fists tearing against the window. "What happens if she gets in?"

"This is dark magic," Adrian explained quickly and calmly, "someone is using necromancy as an attack tactic. The dead are going to try and take the castle, but someone is behind them, controlling the attack."

"You mean—it's the _necromancer?_ Again?!"

"Or Severa," said Adrian.

The window shattered and the dead woman began crawling through the shards to get into the castle. Adrian stepped in front of me and outstretched his hand with his palm facing the corpse. There was some kind of force emitting from the tips of his fingers; the corpse was jolted and immobile. And then it burst into flames.

 _Adrian is capable of this kind of magic?_ I thought at once with both horror and profound adoration.

The woman's corpse shriveled into ash upon the floor. And then Clarkson appeared in the library, his normal stoic demeanor vanished, and his face was drawn with panic. "Master—it's the front door! There are more out there, and they're heading this way!"

Adrian slipped his hand into mine and squeezed it. "Raise the alarm," he said to Clarkson. "All the castle staff are sworn to protect Blackhill. I will do what I can to fend them off, without-" he paused, looking at me. "Without turning into the Beast," he finished. "The Beast is still a danger to you."

As we hurried out into the entrance hall we came upon the front door—it was wide open. Adrian rushed to the opening and looked out before almost simultaneously slamming it shut, holding it closed with his back against it.

"They're already inside!" I exclaimed.

He turned around and ran the palm of his hand down the front of the door; I could hear him whispering words rapidly beneath his breath. Then Adrian turned back to me, grabbed my hand and we ran back through the hall and further into the castle.

All around us the familiar and elusive spirits of Blackhill began to materialize. They were holding makeshift weapons and appearing, and disappearing again as Adrian led me into the garden hall and closed the doors behind us.

"The front door's enchantment is only temporary," he said, nearly out of breath. "But whatever is coming in can be held off if everyone fights."

The garden hall's wide French doors were closed, but the glass panes were large and let in a crystal-clear view of the garden terrace. As Adrian and I turned to the doors, more dark and decaying figures appeared outside upon the terrace. Adrian again stepped in front of me, his palm stretched out towards them.

"They're easy to kill," he said steadily. "So at least I can hold them off with the magical traits I've inherited from my family. Severa is stupid to think that whatever sort of attack this is won't be dealt with easily."

There were nearly ten of them, standing at the closed doors. The corpses began to rush forward, throwing their bodies against the doors one by one, rattling the glass and the frame.

"Maybe she's not doing what you think she's doing," I said, my voice wavering in fear as the glass doors began to crack.

"If they get through, stay behind me," Adrian said calmly.

A beat later, the doors cracked and crumbled before the dead and the dead poured in through the openings—but now there were far more than ten. They were a snarling, hungry bunch like the wolves that had pursued me the night I came to Blackhill. Without a word some kind of force emanated from Adrian's outstretched hand, and like a shooting star, shot through the room and eclipsed the corpses as they rushed towards us. Adrian swiftly turned and put his body over mine as the effects of the spell filled the room and shook the animated corpses. They all fell motionless to the ground and disappeared in flames.

We slowly stood up and gazed at the scene around us.

"There will be more," he said.

"Will your magic run out?" I asked.

"It just has," Adrian replied, striding over to a suit of armor and picking out the sparring sword from its grasp. It was a flimsy tool with barely a pointed end.

 _Better make myself useful_ , I thought, and I retrieved my own sparring sword from another hollowed suit of armor. We ducked quietly into the corridor, edging down the dark hallway with bated breath.

"Where are we going?" I whispered.

"Back into the library," he replied. "There's a sword in there—a real one. As far as I know it belongs to my family. I've always wanted to put it to use."

There were echoes coming from the entrance hall; the front door was being attacked from the outside. We sprinted into the library and stopped in our tracks in surprise. The entire castle staff was there, seemingly waiting for us.

Clarkson stepped forward. "You are the master of this castle," he said solemnly. "We will do as you order."

Behind Clarkson each and every person was holding an object to fight or defend with. Martha stepped up beside Clarkson, holding something long and wrapped in cloth. "I believe this is what you are looking for," she said.

Adrian stepped forward and silently unwrapped the cloth. A long sword with a hilt carved in the shape of a raven's head gleamed in the morning light. He picked up the sword with one hand and held it aloft, gazing at the blade.

"It was your father's," said Martha.

" _My father's_?"

Martha nodded. "He gave it to your mother and swore he would come back for it, for her. It is yours by right."

Adrian was at a loss for words—but the moment was soon gone forever, as a loud bang echoed through the castle and into the library. The dead were infiltrating the castle.

"Fight with me and beat back the Enchantress and these unwanted visitors. Let's defend our home!" Adrian shouted.

The castle staff roared in agreement and began to pour out of the library and into the hall.

Adrian turned to me and gently took the sparring sword. "You're not fighting," he said. 'It's what the Enchantress wants. You'll be safest in the high tower."

With his right hand brandishing his sword, and his left hand in mine, Adrian led me out of the library and back into the wide corridor connecting to the entrance hall. As soon we were halfway down the hall, a skeletal corpse lunged at us through the shadows. In one swift motion Adrian sliced it in half, and without hesitation we kept moving forward to where the castle staff and the reanimated dead were engaged in a battle.

The entrance hall was plunged into chaos, and immediately we could see there was no safe path to the staircase.

"There's another way," Adrian said quickly and so we sprinted into a side corridor lined with doors. "One of these leads through the servant's quarters back to the main corridor on the second floor."

At the end of the corridor appeared one of the dead—a tall, sloping half-skeleton with a skull that still had pieces of flesh attached to it. It was something out of my worst nightmare. As soon as it saw it us it began to charge.

"Adrian!"

Adrian turned and held his sword steadily with both hands, bracing for the corpse's attack. The skeleton fell to pieces as soon as it met Adrian's sword. I opened nearest door and saw a narrow hallway leading to a set of stairs. "This way!"

We shut the door behind us and alighted the creaking stairs that so reminded me of the ones in my old home, where I was a prisoner a lifetime before. We hesitated when we reached the top.

"How many floors until we reach the high tower?" I whispered.

"Five," he said. "How many dead things have I so far destroyed?"

"I think twenty, at least?"

"Good," said Adrian, putting his hand onto the doorknob, "I'd like to keep count for the next time I see my aunt."

He thrust the door open and we took off down the second floor corridor, the sounds from the fight below us uncomfortably close. He slashed through three or four more wandering corpses until we reached the next flight of stairs.

Coming down the steps was another wall of animated corpses, their arms stretched out towards us, snarls escaping through their rotted and broken teeth. Adrian pulled me down an alternate corridor, where more of these things appeared and were effectively taken down with his sword.

"Where are they all coming from?" I asked as we rounded a corner to another small flight of stairs.

"Severa's got some tricks up her sleeve," he said as we flew up the steps. "Maybe she is letting them in through a way I don't know about…"

We stopped at the top of the stairs. The corridor before us was lined with the dead; they stood there poised, as if they had been waiting for us to show up. And then they all at once ran at us.

Adrian and I took off back down the stairs, cutting through two more skeletons before reaching the bottom.

" _What do we do_?" I frantically asked when we landed back on the second floor. "All the ways we want to go—they're following our every move!"

Adrian continued to slash through the animated skeletons and fleshy corpses as we searched for a safe place in the castle. There were just so, so many of them now—the castle was infested with the dead. We ran down corridors, up and down stairs, through rooms and halls before we finally realized we were running out of places to go.

"I need to find Martha and Clarkson," said Adrian as we headed back toward the main staircase. "They can help protect you."

We reached the top of the main staircase and looked down into the entrance hall below, where the main fighting was occurring between skeletons and corpses and the castle staff. The front door to the castle was wide open and suddenly, above the cacophony of the fight, there came a howl that pierced the air. In the door frame appeared four shadows—no, not shadows, I realized, squinting down at it. Four _wolves_.

Adrian and I exchanged uneasy glances. The wolves bounded into the castle, their teeth barred; the alpha sniffed the air and howled again.

"Belle," said Adrian. "I have to change into the Beast."

The four wolves darted through the hall, coming towards the staircase.

"As long as you're wearing my mother's necklace the Enchantress can't touch you," he continued. "But these wolves can. Take my sword and find a place to hide and once I kill these wolves I will come find you and we're getting out of here."

I couldn't speak for the fear amplifying in my heart. Adrian leaned forward and kissed me like he did the night before, his hands gently squeezing my waist, and then he slipped the sword into my grasp.

"I love you, Adrian," I whispered.

For a moment he appeared taken aback, but then his courageous hazel eyes twinkled. "I love you, Belle."

And then he turned; the wolves were making their way up the staircase now. Adrian leapt into the air and transformed into the Beast—this time, it took only a matter of seconds, and so he met the wolves with a furious roar. I turned and ran back down the corridor, looking for an empty room to hide in. There were skeletons crawling, walking, and running through the halls of the castle and the ones I had to get past succumbed easily to the blade and force of the sword.

 _This isn't so bad_ , I thought to myself, _if only I have to contend with these weak, dead things_ …

I found an empty bedroom and closed and bolted the door shut behind me. I placed my ear to the door and listened; out in the corridor some of the dead had followed me and were now scratching and snarling at the door.

 _They can't get in_ , I thought carefully. _And if they do I will kill them_.

I took a deep breath and slid to the ground, balancing the sword beside me against the wall.

And then someone spoke.

"I'm so glad you are okay."

I gasped and stood. "Who's there?" The bedroom had appeared empty. One bed, one side table, a wardrobe, and a window that was half-opened. Martha stepped out from behind the wardrobe.

"It's just me, deary," she said. Her cheeks were rose red, even redder than usual, and her smile was wide. She seemed completely unscathed from the fight.

"Martha," I breathed in relief. "I'm okay. There were wolves so Adrian had to change into the Beast. This will all be over soon!"

"Yes it will," she agreed. "Yes it will. Here, to comfort you. Have something to eat." She pulled an apple from her apron and held it out to me.

"I'm sorry, I can't even think about food right now," I said. "I have to make sure Adrian's okay-"

"The master will not be harmed," she said pleasantly. "It's you the Enchantress is after."

"Huh?"

Martha stepped closer. She was silhouetted against the grey light of the window. "You must at least take a bite," she said, "because you love me and I know what's best."

I sighed as she handed the apple to me, my ears attuned to the sounds of the fighting coming from below. I thought I could hear the Beast among them. _Adrian's not far_ , I reassured myself, and absentmindedly took a bite from the apple.

"So how did you know I'd be in here?" I asked, turning my attention back to Martha.

But Martha was gone. Instead, a dark, elf-like creature hovered before me, his golden eyes bright and gleaming. I opened my mouth to scream—but something came over me, something I couldn't control. My vision began to fade and my senses failed. The creature took hold of me and I vaguely perceived being lifted up—and out through the bedroom window.

Large wings parted out of the creatures back as it held me close, dipping into the air.

 _This must be a dream_ , I thought. _Any moment now I will wake up and I will be back in my room, waiting for Lorna to summon me for the day's chores_ ….

The earth fell away from me and then so did everything else.

* * *

When I awoke, I was laying down in a bed of blankets in a covered wagon. The wagon creaked as it rocked along a path. I sat up.

 _Where am I?_

There was no one else there—only a driver and their horses. The wagon suddenly came to a halt.

The driver of the wagon appeared. "A-a-are you awake?" they asked.

It was an elderly man with heavily hooded eyes and a stutter.

I nodded, speechless.

"Good. Now tell me, what is your name, dear?"

 _My name?_

I felt strange. So strange—like I barely even knew who I was, or where I was, or _why_ I was.

"My name is Mary," I said as my head began to throb with pain. "Please—what is going on?"

"You've—you've been held captive by the N-N-Necromancer for weeks. Somehow you m-managed to escape," he explained. "And you've asked me to take you home. We're near the b-b-border of the wild forest now, so there's no need to worry. We will get you home by n-nightfall."

"I can't remember anything!" I shrieked, suddenly realizing. " _Why can't I remember_?"

"M-Maybe it's best you don't," said the man. "My-my name's Riss, by the way."

I frantically examined myself—I was wearing clothes I did not recognize, shoes I did not recognize, though I appeared to be unharmed—and—

 _What's this?_

A silver necklace hung around my neck. I picked it up by its pendant and examined it. _Where did this come from?_

"Best con-continue on now," said Riss. He climbed back up onto the driver's seat and the wagon lurched forward. I could only sit and stew in utter horror and shock, racking my brain for any clue about why I had just seemingly woken up here. After a while, a light rain began to fall and suddenly there was a voice on the path ahead.

"You there! Halt!"

Riss stopped the wagon. I peered out, squinting to see who it was through the rain and rising mist. A tall figure upon a white horse blocked the path with several men behind positioned behind them.

"What business do you have on the King's road?" one of the men asked.

Riss raised both of his hands in the air. "I—I am a traveler, if it pleases you. Delivering s-someone home."

The opposing figure rode forth on their horse, wearing a long, green cloak. Their hair was dripping wet around their face, but I immediately knew who it was.

" _Stefan_!"

I jumped out of the back of the wagon, landing in a puddle in the path, soaking my clothes.

The prince hesitated, regarding me with half- disbelief before jumping off his horse. " _Mary_? Is that you?!"

And suddenly his familiar face was there, before me, and a rush of happiness filled me.

"Where have you been?" he asked, ripping off his cloak and wrapping it around my shoulders.

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head.

"The—the girl has been through an ordeal, from what she was able to tell me," Riss chimed in. "She barely just m-m-managed to escape the Necromancer."

Stefan's hazel eyes filled with emotion and he drew me close to him. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you sooner. You're safe now, I swear it. There will be no more necromancers, no more beasts-"

"Beasts?"

He cocked his head, gazing at me in confusion. "You don't remember what happened at all?"

"No," I said, my stomach feeling weak. "Nothing."

Stefan breathed out shakily, and we shivered in the rainy wind. "Let's get you home," he said. "To _my_ home."

"W-wait!" Riss shouted as the prince led me to his horse. "I was supposed to deliver the girl!"

Stefan helped me up onto his steed and tossed a bag of coins at the wagon driver. "For your good intentions," he said.

The prince's men rode after us as Stefan drove his horse full speed up the king's road and back towards the city, leaving the wagon driver and the wild forest far behind. And with them, memories that would long be forgotten.

* * *

 **End of part one.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Part 2**

* * *

The summer was nearly over, but the thunderstorms persisted. They are always the last to go.

The air was hung heavily with moisture and heat. As Stefan and I rode up the king's road towards the gates of the city, the afternoon sun blazed down upon us mercilessly as the sky behind us was shaded with furious blackened clouds. Our clothes had dried from the earlier rain and what began as a cool, misty day had turned into a swelteringly humid one.

Finally I could see the city gates ahead of us, and behind it stretching tall into the clouds was King Peter's castle.

 _I remember the night of the ball_ , I thought to myself. _And I remember running from the Necromancer. But I don't know what happened after I left…_ And I tried not to think even about that. Because if I did, I would think and think and think until I went mad.

Stefan's horse shimmied to a halt as one of his men rode back to us from the gates.

"The citizens wish to pay tribute," he said to Stefan.

Stefan seemed to be taken off guard, hesitating. "That's very kind of them," he conceded.

"Should we let them? It's a lengthy ride through the city."

"Of course," Stefan replied.

We rode forward, and the dusty king's road turned into a cobbled main street that wound its way up the hill and through the city to the castle. Inside the gates the village was buzzing, seemingly with excitement, and so when the prince's procession made its way up the main street the crowd parted and looked on with curiosity. And suddenly, out from the crowd stepped up a young girl. She was dressed in rags and her face was smudged with dirt, but nevertheless she boldly approached Stefan's horse and held out to us a single rose.

I stared at her in bewilderment, and she gazed right back.

I looked to Stefan and he nodded gently. Carefully I leaned forward and accepted the rose from the girl, who turned and darted back into the crowd. The procession continued on, and that's when I noticed the villagers laying roses upon the path we tread. There were hundreds, and hundreds more.

"What is this about?" I whispered.

"You," said the prince.

We were getting closer to the castle now and my heart began to thud nervously, especially while being watched by thousands of strangers.

 _Do any of them recognize me?_ I wondered. _How could they? I'm no one_.

 _Then why are they giving me roses?_

The castle gates opened before us and the procession poured into the courtyard. As soon as our feet hit the ground a young page boy appeared.

"His Grace the king summons you to the throne room," the boy said, and then glanced at me, "both of you."

Stefan sighed heavily. "I knew this would happen. Tell him we're on our way." Then he turned to me. "I'm sorry for this ahead of time. My father wants to meet you."

 _I'm meeting the king_ , I realized with horror as Stefan led me into the castle.

The throne room was full and buzzing, just like the village had been. As the doors opened up and we stepped in, the crowd hushed and parted, revealing the straight path up to where both the king and queen sat upon their thrones.

Stefan held my hand in front of everyone as we walked up to the front. The king was silent and thin-lipped; the queen was mild and composed.

We stopped before them. I steadily curtsied.

"So you are the girl we've heard all about," said the queen. She was a fair-haired woman with a kind face.

"My name is Mary, your Grace."

"Mary," she echoed pleasantly. "We are thrilled to see that you are well."

The king's eyes were on his son. "And the Necromancer?"

Stefan shrugged. "No sign of him anywhere."

King Peter raised an eyebrow. "So where was the girl?"

The prince and I exchanged hesitant glances.

"Mary has been through an ordeal beyond our understanding," Stefan said firmly. "Now is not the time to question her about it."

The king shifted in his seat. "So the Necromancer is still out there somewhere, along with this Beast."

"And there are many out there searching for both of them," said Stefan. "I'm not concerned with it anymore."

" _Not concerned with it_?" the king scoffed incredulously. "After what happened to you?"

" _Father_ ," Stefan said sharply. "We'll talk about this later. You still haven't welcomed Mary into your home yet."

"She is most welcome," said the queen. "See that Mary is provided everything she needs."

Stefan nodded.

"And we'll prepare a dinner for your safe return," the queen added. "Since your cousins are visiting."

"Very good," said the prince. "Thank you, mother. With your leave I will help Mary get settled. We rode through storms to get here."

"Send for Tamsin," said the queen. "She'll take care of everything."

* * *

One of the queen's handmaidens brought me to a room in the guest wing of the castle—a space traditionally held for royal family members and honored guests, she told me.

"You are an impromptu guest," the girl explained, "but nonetheless honored. The prince himself has been searching for you for weeks. Everyone thinks it's a miracle you are alive."

"They do?" I asked, alarmed.

She opened the door to the room: it was a lavish space, even larger than my father's entire dining room. The walls were covered with rich and colorful tapestries, the floor was covered with thick, luxurious rugs and a giant bed was placed before an equally giant fireplace. I almost turned around and walked out.

 _I can't sleep here_ , I thought _. I don't deserve this. Any of this. I'm a servant to my step-mother and sisters. I am no one._

"Yes," the handmaiden replied. "That's why the king has called for a beast hunt. I've been hearing the most terrible stories about it."

"What beast?" I asked desperately. "I don't know of any beast."

She took notice of my distress and promptly wrapped her skinny arms around me. "There, there, dear Lady Mary. The prince will take care of everything. I know he will."

"Yoo-hoo!" came a voice from the doorway.

I looked up to see a girl around my age, though a little taller and heavy-set, dressed in the finest clothes I had ever seen. Her fair hair was wrapped up into a tiara on her head. She shuffled into the room.

"Mary, isn't it?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm Tamsin. My aunt the queen notified me that you are in need of some things?"

I didn't know what to say. The queen's handmaiden was still clinging to my arm.

Tamsin looked me up and down. "Well I can see already that you would never fit into my clothes, so my seamstress will have to make something new with the leftover fabric. What size shoe are you?"

"Size six," I said, surprised at my own memory. I wasn't sure what I could remember at this point.

Tamsin laughed vociferously. "Size six? Your feet are _so_ small!"

"It's okay," I said quickly. "I have shoes." _Though I don't know where they came from_.

"Oh no," she said. "You need more than one pair of shoes while staying here. Have you ever been to court before?"

"No."

"Well," she said, after a confused moment, "where _have_ you been?"

I shook my head. "I don't know anymore." And then the tears betrayed my composure and I was reduced to a puddle on the floor in seconds.

Tamsin said something to the handmaiden and she left, closing the door behind her. Then she sat down on the floor beside me in her immaculate, elegant dress.

"So it's true then," she said quietly. "What everyone is saying."

"What is everyone saying?" I asked with a sniff. "And who is 'everyone'?"

" _Everyone_ is everyone," said Tamsin. "And they're saying you were kidnapped by a Necromancer who tried to feed you to this monstrous beast in the wild forest and you don't even remember it. But how would you forget something like that?"

"I don't know," I said. "I wish I could remember."

Tamsin shuddered. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get mixed up with a necromancer anyway?"

"It was my step-mother, Lorna. She made a deal with him that I would be his bride and property if he paid off her debts and got her daughters into the ball."

"What?" Tamsin exclaimed. "That's horrible! And illegal! Horribly illegal!"

I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the anxiety overcoming me. I felt like I was in the center of a tornado, hanging on by one hand and ready to fly off at any moment, to never come back. I took a deep breath.

"The prince is very kind for helping like this," I said evenly.

"Stefan has a bleeding heart," says Tamsin, "it's the only way I can describe him. He is my favorite cousin though. I only have two—you _don't_ want to meet the other one. But you will tonight, at dinner. Oh! And that reminds me—you will need a dress to wear. I'll look around for one that can be seamed up for you in just a couple of hours. The shoes will have to wait, though."

I was taken aback by her generosity. She didn't even know me, and she was willing to give me her clothes. I opened my mouth to thank her but she was already up, shimmying towards the door.

"See you at dinner then, Lady Mary," she said.

Finally I was alone. So I locked the bedroom door and I sat down at the foot of the bed and cried, because for some reason my heart was breaking.

And I didn't know why.

* * *

Stefan closed his bedroom door tightly behind him and let out a long sigh. He had done nothing but ride for the past couple of days, and the serum Marius had given him to temporarily restore his health was still just kicking in, but at least it meant his strength was slowly coming back to him.

 _Don't forget_ , Marius had said, _you aren't really cured._

The prince undressed and examined his wound in the mirror. Once the arrow had been removed, the royal physicians had gone through all sorts of processes trying to extract the poison, but to little avail. And now the wound had closed and transformed into a light red mark that covered the skin on part of his shoulder. He would not be able to forget that he was not cured. And eventually the pain would return.

Just then, a soft and secretive knock sounded from behind one of the tapestries hanging on the prince's bedroom wall.

 _Speak of the devil_ , he thought. Marius slipped in, his face wrought and somber.

"So you found her," he said, setting his medical bag down on the floor and plopping onto one of the cushy chairs in front of the fireplace.

"Yes," Stefan conceded wearily.

Marius raised his eyebrows. " _And_?"

The prince shrugged, the weight of the last couple of weeks still hanging down upon him. "She doesn't remember what happened. But it's obvious _something_ happened to her."

"Something did happen to her," said Marius, standing. "I saw it myself. You had fallen, and I told her to come with us but she refused. Maybe she was under some kind of spell—or whatever Necromancer's do?"

Stefan stood before his window, gazing pensively out over the kingdom growing shadows in the setting sun. "I need to ask a favor."

Marius snickered. "Don't ask me to find a cure for her memory," he said. "Because I already know it's completely beyond my abilities."

"Two favors, actually," Stefan said softly, his eyes glued to the horizon. "The first one is to find my father's map. You know the one."

"I do?"

"Yes. The one we planned to steal years ago. The map he hides from the world because it's a secret passage to another world. He plans to take it and leave soon. I want you to find it as soon as possible and bring it to me."

Marius sighed heavily. "I'll do what I can. But why do _you_ want it?"

Stefan glanced somberly at his best friend. "I think you know why."

A heavy moment of silence passed.

"Okay. What's the second favor?"

"Don't tell Mary I'm dying. Don't let _anyone_ tell her. From now on, as far as anyone besides you and I are concerned: I'm healed."

"But you're _not_ ," Marius insisted furiously.

"It doesn't matter," Stefan calmly replied. "Now promise me."

Marius stared defiantly at the prince, his lips pressed together with indecision. "Everything you ask me to do goes against what I believe in. Why are you doing this?"

Stefan turned to face his friend, his eyes set with frustration. "You told me yourself that I am dying and nothing can change that. Mary doesn't need to know. Trust me to take care of things in the way I see fit!"

"You want me to steal your father's precious, secret map so you can disappear off the face of the earth. Am I understanding this correctly?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet," said Stefan, this time more softly. "But you're the only person in the world I can trust with this. I know you'll help me."

"I'll help you; I'll do whatever you want," Marius said impatiently, "but I don't understand why you're hiding the truth. What if there is still a chance for you out there? Lying to everyone and making them believe you are alright… it's just…"

"It's my choice," Stefan said calmly. "And if somehow there is still a chance out there for me, then it will come to me. I have to believe it."

There was nothing left to say. With a nod and a slight bow, Marius exited through the secret passageway from which he came. And so Stefan dressed for dinner, his mind traveling far, far away… to a place he didn't even know whether was real or just a dream of his father's.

 _If it is real, then the map can take me there_ , he thought.

 _Soon._

* * *

The castle's dining room was lit with hundreds of candles shimmering from the hanging chandeliers; the painted walls stretching high into the arched ceiling above. The marble floors were almost shiny enough to see one's own reflection, and so I couldn't help but notice my own as Tamsin escorted me inside. I was dressed in a dark blue gown of silk and satin with a gold trim, as if I were a princess. Her handmaiden brushed my hair a thousand strokes before plating it elegantly down my shoulder. It took me back to the last night I could remember: the night of the ball, where the fairy had dressed me up as a person I could not recognize and so I felt like an imposter.

 _I will never be a princess. I am a servant. Nothing has changed._

The dining room had many tables; but the longest was at the head of the room, where the king and queen sat, already eating as more guests entered and took their various seats.

 _What strangeness_ , I thought as Tamsin led me through the crowd and to a table near the king and queen's. _I only just came here for the first time the night of the ball, and now here I am as Stefan's guest._

But these thoughts only served to remind me of what was missing in my head, and feelings of anxiety were striking me with increasing frequency—that is, until the prince approached.

He was cleaned up the same as I and dressed more casually than he had the night of the ball. He was handsome, no doubt—a boy _any_ girl would be lucky to have—but there was something about him that made me feel as if I had known him for some time, and well. But I _didn't_ really know him at all.

His eyes, though. I knew his eyes.

"You look beautiful," Stefan said as he stepped up through the crowd. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'm okay," I said lamely, but followed it up with a reassuring smile. Something inside of me wanted to please the prince, to meet him with the same interest and intrigue that he met me. In a way, he was the only person I felt I could trust.

"You must be starving," he said, and we took our seats at a table with Tamsin when a boy that I immediately recognized joined us. The boy with the fair, curly hair and wide smile.

"I'm Marius," he said to me, politely bowing his head. "I am glad to see that you are okay."

"You," I gasped. "At the ball—I thought _you_ were the prince!"

Tamsin peered at us in confusion as the boys erupted into laughter.

Marius shook his head. "I don't have a royal drop of blood in me, but nonetheless Stefan sees fit for me to stand in for him during crucial moments so he can sneak off. I apologize for the confusion."

There was still an empty seat at the table as the wait-staff came around and loaded our plates with meat pies and roasted vegetables, pouring wine in our goblets with particular enthusiasm.

"Cousin Gaspard is late again," Tamsin murmured as she bit into her food. "I think I last saw him scaling the moat, as a matter of fact. He thinks he can maneuver his way into the castle with sheer strength and skill. I was like—'Dear cousin, if you fall in you will smell like the sewer for days. Why not just come in through the gate, like everyone else?' And you know what he said?"

"—I think I said something about how I scaled the two hundred foot rock wall that fortifies my parent's castle over the cliffs with nothing but my bare hands and a good pair of boots," said a tall, bulking boy who promptly took a seat at our table. "And this castle is _nothing_ compared to that."

Stefan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Er—this is my cousin Gaspard," he said to me. "He and Tamsin sometimes visit for the summer."

"Aren't you leaving in a few days?" Marius asked with a hint of hope.

Gaspard lowered his heavy brow over his strong brown eyes. "Not anymore. I signed up for the Beast tourney. How could I miss it?"

Tamsin scoffed as Stefan and Marius exchanged glances.

"That's right," Gaspard continued, grabbing a whole chicken breast off his plate and biting into it hungrily. "I'm going to win the tournament and lead the hunt for the Beast. I've got nine days of training ahead of me and nothing's going keep me from the glory of winning the tournament and then bringing back the monster's head for all the kingdom to see."

There it was again: the mysterious beast.

And then I realized that Stefan and his friend were looking at me with hesitation.

"What's this beast?" I asked.

Gaspard set his food down and flashed a smarmy smile. "Aren't _you_ the girl who was attacked by it?"

"She can't remember anything," Stefan said sharply.

Gaspard sat back and shrugged his shoulders. "Well anyway, the winner gets gold and glory. Plus I have at least ten comrades signed up to come with me. We're having special crossbows made in town."

"A crossbow won't kill it," said Marius. "I saw that thing myself. It's massive, it's fast, and it's furious."

"And I am three times all of that," said Gaspard with a cheeky wink. And then he set his gaze upon me. "I'll kill it and I'll bring its head straight to _you_ so you can see what all the fuss is about."

"That's disgusting," Tamsin snapped.

"Excuse me," I said abruptly, standing. A horrible wave of anxiety had washed over me and my hands had immediately gone clammy. I hardly knew where I was going but I didn't stop until I found myself out upon the garden terrace in the cool evening air. In the distance I could heard a bird crowing. I sighed and looked up at the moon.

"I'm sorry about him," said the prince as he stepped out to join me. "I didn't bring you here to make things worse for you, I swear it."

A few silent moments passed as I struggled to gather my words.

"I'm—thankful, Stefan," I said carefully. "If you hadn't come looking for me then I would probably be dead by now, between the Necromancer and this _beast_ everyone is talking about."

"You don't have to thank me," said the prince. "I am at your service—whatever it takes. I know things are horrible for you right now but they won't always be. We can make things right."

His words cooled the pain in my heart. I looked up into his tantalizingly familiar eyes and all the words I could have said simply fell away, and the wrong ones replaced them.

"May I ask—why are you doing all of this for me?"

He seemed surprised, but not offended. Gently he took my hand. "Because I want the things I do in this world to count. I want to make every second count, and when I met you, I realized how. Is that… okay?"

"That's beautiful," I said. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't either," said Stefan. "Everything in my life changed the night I met you. Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was an accident. Lately I just don't care about what makes sense anymore."

So there I was with the prince— _what would my mother and father think, if they could see me_? He was everything I could've dreamed of: gallant, brave, handsome, and strangely familiar. Stefan was the perfect guy, the perfect prince.

So why did my heart ache when I looked at him? Why? _Why_?

"I think I need to sleep," I admitted wearily. "Please thank your mother and father for having me."

"Of course," said the prince. "After you've rested—come find me tomorrow. I won't be far."

* * *

I was nearly dreaming when there was a startling tap on my window. I bolted awake, my heart pounding in fear.

Eclipsed by the moonlight I could see a large blackbird tapping its beak repeatedly against the glass, its wings flapping urgently. I hurried over to the window and opened it.

"Shoo!" I hissed at the bird. "Leave me alone!" And then I latched the window shut again and drew the curtains. The bird flew off.

I laid back down in the bed with a deep sigh when the strange silver necklace around my neck glinted in the moonlight, catching my attention. I fell asleep gazing at the pendant rose, wondering beyond hope if I would ever know where it came from.

 _Maybe I should take it off_ , I thought as I drifted towards sleep. And then the night swallowed me whole and I slept like the dead.


	17. Chapter 17

Along the dampened and dusty king's road the rickety wagon rambled on, this time away from the kingdom and the wild forest. Riss, a shape-changing gnome and sworn servant of the Enchantress, kept his eyes straight ahead on the path, fear growing in his heart.

He had failed Severa; he had lost the girl.

 _But it's not my fault_ , he thought over and over to himself. How could he have known they would be intercepted by the king's own son? How could he have anticipated that the prince would know the girl, and take her? What _should_ he have done?

Surely the Enchantress would kill him for this mistake. She had been clear on how much she needed the girl.

 _The girl is useless now, anyway_ , Riss thought. _She can't remember a damn thing. How could she be a threat to the Enchantress?_

And so instead of following the fork in the road that would lead him to Severa's secret hiding place, he instead turned the wagon towards the path that would take him through the mountains.

 _I'm getting out of here_ , he decided. _I don't want to know what she would do to me for this._

Throughout the years Riss had personally witnessed Severa's wrath. She had always been a power-hungry being, obsessed with restoring her family's line of power and influence, and then killing her own sister when she refused to give up her son for the cause. And then what she did to that boy—cursing him and imprisoning him for all of those years—on top of countless other murders. All for one cause: taking the throne and seizing power.

Her family was from a different land, and a different time, and their rule was a long-forgotten memory. But Severa had her mind set on changing that fate, and everyone who stood in her way became a victim.

 _Except me_ , he thought. _I've only helped her and she hasn't killed me yet._

 _But her fury is unmatched; she will come after me. I would have to be in hiding for the rest of my life to pay for this mistake_.

Riss brought the wagon to a creaking halt. He mulled over his two options: go forth into hiding, or go back and retrieve the girl. It would be a challenging task, no doubt. Even with his ability to change his form and identity; he would have to convince the girl to come with him willingly. Severa had cursed her to forget, and there were no more such tricks up her sleeve.

 _I'm not a hero_ , he thought. _Nor am I clever enough to pull this off._

With a heavy sigh Riss pulled the wagon around the road and began upon the path that would lead back into the kingdom.

 _I can't believe I'm doing this._

* * *

I awoke to a soft and hesitant knock on my door. When I opened it I was surprised to find Stefan waiting there, partially hidden under the hood of a plain cloak.

"Stefan? What are you doing-"

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to his lips. "Sorry—were you sleeping?" he whispered.

"Yes," I said with a reluctant smile.

"The sun is rising," he said. "I was hoping you could show me something."

* * *

It felt like it had been years since I'd last seen the market. But there it was before us, buzzing and bustling in the rising sun, just as always. The food stands bore fresh produce and meats, the foreign merchants sold intricately woven rugs and fabrics, the bakers competed amongst each other for the softest, freshest bread in the city, and the villagers milled about in the burgeoning summer morning. To someone who had never seen the sight before, I could understand why Stefan's eyes lit up as he gazed around him. Maybe it was the same way I felt when I first stepped into his palace.

"Do you have any money?" I asked. "I know a place that sells lemon crepes with wild berries and cream. The best thing you'll _ever_ taste."

"Yes, I have money," he said, laughing, "and I demand that you take us there immediately."

We ate breakfast together, sitting upon overturned barrels at the street side, watching the market's movements as the sun rose higher and higher. No one recognized Stefan, as he was dressed in commoner clothes, and so no one recognized me either. It was the first time either one of us could talk without the pressure and glances of everyone around us.

"So, what were you doing when you spent time here, in the market?" Stefan asked. "You made it sound like this is where you grew up."

"It pretty much was," I said. "After my father died, Lorna moved my bedroom to the attic tower and made me a household servant. I had to come here most days and sell what our garden produced to support her spending habits."

"You're not a servant, Mary. You'll never have to serve her again."

"I never want to _see_ her again."

The prince and I wandered through the market, talking throughout the warm afternoon sunlight. He was curious about me—which house did I grow up in? What happened to my family? How did I fall under Lorna's imprisonment? He wanted to get to the bottom of it all, as if he were searching for an answer to a question he did not know. I told him everything, except about the fairy that helped me the night of the ball. There was something about that memory that held an indescribable darkness, as if I were afraid to acknowledge its existence, and I didn't know why. But it felt good to tell him everything—I had never before told anyone about my life. And even better—he told me all about his.

Being a prince was nothing like I had read in books—in fact, Stefan didn't even like being a prince. His father was overbearing, and he enjoyed most of his time away from the castle at school with his friends, far away in the mountains. His mother and father had long ago fallen out of love, and so his family was fractured and hallowed. He was never allowed to do what he wanted, and even the ball was an obligation that he was forced into, which is how we ended up meeting in the garden that night.

"I always looked up at your castle from my tower when the moon was out," I told him. "And just the way it glowed like a jewel in the night, warm and golden; I thought, _how could anyone be unhappy there_? And all the time you _were_ unhappy there."

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," he said humbly. "But it never felt like a home the way my school did, and it still doesn't, yet my father will not let me leave. He's suspicious of me."

"Well," I said, "he'll never find you _here_."

We had arrived at the bookshop, my favorite haunt and dearest secret. "This is my heaven."

We went inside and travelled up and down the rows of books, talking about the stories we've read. And then I came upon a book I had somehow forgotten all about—even though it was my favorite—

" _Winter's Heart_!" I exclaimed, grabbing the book off the shelf and gazing at it incredulously.

I opened it to the first page, my heart beating wildly.

"What's it about?" the prince asked.

 _I can't remember_ , I realized. But it was my favorite book!

My eyes scanned the pages, raking over unfamiliar words and names.

 _Belle._

"I—I don't know," I said uncertainly.

"Well then we must find out," said Stefan. "I'll buy it and we'll read it together."

I was lost in thought as we left the bookshop and stepped out onto the main street when I saw a familiar face in the crowd, and my eyes met with a very old friend.

"Old Mia!" I exclaimed, and abandoned the prince's side.

She was pushing a cart with the usual items, her small but strong frame wrapped in a light shawl. She barely had time to let me into her embrace before I wrapped my arms around her tightly.

'Mary," she breathed in disbelief. "I've been so worried about you! I can't believe you're here!"

"It's been unbelievable, what's happened since I left," I explained, "I am so sorry I left you. How are you?"

"I'm fine, fine," she insisted. "Things have been rather quiet since… since the night you left."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "So Lorna hasn't punished you in some way?"

Old Mia shook her head, her eyes filled with something I couldn't place. "No, my girl. Lorna is _dead_."

My insides froze. The joy and elation I had felt seeing Old Mia again drained out of me and was replaced with a slow growing, ice cold dread. "Dead? What happened?"

"She died the night you left," Old Mia said softly. "She was poisoned."

My mouth was dry, my lungs aching for more air.

"Hello," said Stefan.

"Forgive me," I said quickly, swallowing back my nausea. "Stefan—this is Old Mia. She has always watched over me; she is my dearest friend."

I didn't hear the words they exchanged, nor did I perceive much of my surroundings as my mind fell down a dark, dark hole.

 _Lorna was murdered. The night I left._

 _I killed Lorna. The fairy tricked me._

It was me. It was me who killed her. I knew it without needing proof—I should have known it all along. The fairy said my freedom came with a price, and Lorna would pay it. And now she was dead.

"Are you okay?" Stefan asked, placing his hand on my back to steady me.

"Those girls have taken over your house," said Old Mia. "It's time you take it back."

"I can't take it back," I said. "I don't want it."

Old Mia looked to Stefan hopefully. He seemed to sense there was something terribly wrong.

"Let's go back to the castle," he suggested. "We can talk in the gardens."

I promised Old Mia I would see her again soon, and so the prince and I left the market behind as the late afternoon sun dragged across the sky.

* * *

The kingdom was breathless with joy: the news had broken that the prince Stefan was alive, well, and better than ever. All rumors of him lying upon his death bed were dashed and replaced with an excited buzz: he was alive and in love. What better outcome could anyone have hoped for? The king's own physicians had cleared the prince of danger and after the citizens received a glimpse of the mysterious girl he had gone after, they were sure that love could truly cure anything.

King Peter, though, was not convinced. He stood upon his balcony and observed his son walking with the girl through the gardens. Their heads were bent low together as they exchanged secretive words.

 _She is beautiful_ , the king conceded. _But why did my son risk everything for her?_

The kingdom being happy was one thing, but the threat still loomed out there in the forest; the Necromancer and the Beast. Maybe the Necromancer was long gone; maybe he wasn't. But justice had not been served. And this Beast… well, in just a few days the tournament would take place and the king would name a champion to lead the Beast hunt. Stefan was strictly forbidden to participate in the tourney—and to the king's surprise, and surprising dismay, the prince hardly seemed to care.

In fact, he hardly seemed to care about anything at all anymore except for this girl, this girl named Mary.

He had abandoned all council meetings and appeared to be avoiding the king at every opportunity. When the king had told his son to choose a girl at the ball, he hadn't meant for him to take it this far. Stefan had always been a willful child—a trait the king himself had passed on to him. But this was different; his behavior was subversive.

 _He knows_ , the king admitted to himself. The prince was clever like his mother. Stefan suspected the truth: the king was planning on leaving the kingdom, and soon. The king needed Stefan to step up and take his place; there was simply no one else, and it was his destiny.

 _He'll fight his destiny, like I did,_ King Peter thought. _I cannot let him._

The queen entered his chambers silently, her usually cheerful decorum put to rest. When it was just her and the king alone, they did not pretend to love each other anymore. She stood beside the king and glanced down into the gardens. Stefan and Mary disappeared behind the towering hedges of the maze.

"So, what is your plan?" She asked. "I know you're thinking of punishing him."

"He thinks _everything_ is a punishment," King Peter said flatly.

"Why do you criticize him so? Why can't you just let him be happy? Just be glad that he's alive."

"I'm not punishing him," the king said tersely. "In fact, I'm going to give him what he wants. I'm going to let him keep the girl."

"Her name is Mary. Stop calling her 'the girl'. You sound like a pig."

King Peter ignored his wife's chastising. "They will marry. The kingdom wants it, he wants it, I assume she wants it too. Everyone will be happy: and then he will rule."

The queen raised an eyebrow. "Is it really that simple? Or do I sense an underlying motivation?"

"I need to speak with him, but he is avoiding me."

"How sad for you." The queen turned to leave.

"You could at least offer to help," King Peter said.

"How so?"

"Tell him to come see me. He'll listen to you."

The queen rolled her eyes and left without a word.

* * *

Deep in the wild forest a dark castle loomed, no longer hidden in the trees. Its gates were tightly shut, creaking against the wind as an evening summer storm rolled in. Just outside the castle a boy sat upon the garden steps, clutching to a sword with a raven hilt. He stared at it, deep in thought, as a single tear escaped his hazel eyes and slid down his cheek. The wind blew through his hair as the sky darkened.

Adrian looked up as a blackbird swooped down from the sky and perched itself beside him upon the steps. It tilted its head to gaze at him curiously. The bird had a secret, but it did not share it.


	18. Chapter 18

The king was dining alone when Stefan entered and sat across from him at his small table by the fire.

"I don't know what you said to my mother, but I promise you she's not going to be passing messages from you in the future. She's leaving in the morning to visit her sister," said the prince.

"I'm well aware of her plans," said King Peter, wiping his mouth on a clothed napkin and pushing his plate away from him.

"So, what is it then? Am I grounded? Am I going to be sent away? What is my punishment?"

The king leaned back in his chair and set his eyes upon his son. "No doubt you have been slacking on your responsibilities. If there's anyone I should send away, it's the girl. I can see she is a distraction for you."

Stefan gripped the edge of the chair tightly. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

"Is this a threat?"

King Peter shrugged. "If I can't interact civilly with you, then I will take matters into my own hands. There are important things on the table—such as the fate of our kingdom."

Stefan scoffed.

"You agreed to choose a girl to wed at the ball. You've done as much. If you don't want me to send the girl away, then you will agree to marry her. And she _must_ accept."

" _What_?!" Stefan exclaimed.

The king looked at him incredulously. "What's this? You don't _want_ to marry her now? You said you were in love."

 _She would be marrying a dead man_ , Stefan thought with a horrible pang of sadness.

"I didn't bring her here to marry her," Stefan said stiffly. "Why are you forcing this?"

King Peter gazed at his son with a furrowed brow. "Because it's your duty. Marry the girl or lose her. You are destined to rule this kingdom and so you need to start thinking about producing heirs and fulfilling your obligations. Don't test me on this: I _could_ make her disappear, if I wanted to."

The prince looked at his father with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "You don't have the right to mess with her life like that. She's done nothing wrong!"

"Then marry her," said the king shortly. "You have until the day of the tourney to make your decision. If she agrees, I will announce it when we crown the champion so all the kingdom can celebrate. If you do nothing, then I will announce that another ball will be held, where you will have one more chance to choose a bride, or I will choose one _for_ you."

"I just want you to know," said Stefan softly, "that I hate you."

The king said nothing as the prince left the room.

* * *

I woke from a night terror, screaming and sticky with sweat. Luckily no one heard me—I didn't want anyone to know, or to talk about me. But I would have to tell someone that my nightmare was about the Necromancer.

 _He's still out there_ , I thought to myself with horror, glancing around at the shadows in my dark room. _He's out there because he got away._

I was told I had been the Necromancer's prisoner for weeks—but if that were true, then how did I escape? Why was I unhurt? Why was I wearing a necklace with a beautiful, silver rose pendant—and most importantly, why couldn't I remember?

 _Take off the necklace_ , I told myself over and over. But I never did.

Who would give it to me?

 _Maybe if I take it off_ , I thought suddenly, _I'll remember_.

I lit the lantern near my bedside and stood in front of the mirror on the wall, surprised to see my shadowy reflection appear so unfamiliar.

 _I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore._

My fingers trembled as they felt for the clasp and carefully took off the necklace. As it came off, I didn't feel anything at all. My eyes examined every inch of the necklace for any trace, any clue as to where it came from. Disappointment lurched in my stomach. I set the necklace down on the bedside table and crawled back into bed.

 _My dreams are_ _true_ , I thought to myself. _The Necromancer is still out there, and he is still looking for me. I can feel it..._

* * *

 _._ The wind whipped his hair and stung his eyes. The air moaned through the trees; it was a sound of sorrow. Adrian was familiar with this sound, and it grew louder every day. Autumn was coming.

He could smell it growing in the air, the dusk of the seasons. Soon he would be twenty-one years old. Half of his life he had spent here, at Blackhill. Standing upon the garden terrace staring into the sky. The loneliness he had long grown accustomed to—but now it felt like a fresh wound, raw and bleeding, with Belle gone.

"The Enchantress has taken her!" Martha had wailed, once the dead had been defeated and lay still and stinking throughout the castle. The castle was searched time and time again, and it was clear that Belle hadn't just vanished. Nobody just _vanishes_.

Three days had passed since the attack. Three days Belle had been missing, and three days forwards to the King's Beast tournament, where a champion would be awarded the honor of bringing the king his head. Time was just another enemy.

On top of all of that—Adrian's ears had been ringing since the day of the attack. No matter where he was or what he did, the ringing was that of high-pitched bells, and followed him everywhere. He couldn't sleep, and he couldn't think.

 _Is this another curse?_ He thought to himself as he yearned to hear silence.

The blackbird landed again beside him upon a statue of an angel. Adrian looked up through the hazy wind.

"Mary!" It squawked. And then it flew off down the path into the garden, where dead leaves fluttered in the breeze.

Adrian stared after it for a moment. And then he followed the bird down the path. Around a corner it perched upon a hedge, waiting for him. "Mary!" It squawked again. It led him deeper into the garden.

 _It's her name_ , Adrian realized. _It's talking about Belle_.

As he followed the blackbird, the ringing in his ears grew louder, more shrill and piercing. It was unlike anything Adrian had ever experienced before—even turning into the Beast was more tolerable than this. Pain was beginning to radiate through his skull and down his spine.

The bird wasn't taking him anywhere new. Around a few corners and twists there was a shallow pond beside a weeping willow tree that rippled in the wind. Adrian had lazed by the pond reading books there as a child, but had long ago lost interest. The blackbird landed beside the pond and seemed to peer into the water, tilting its head curiously.

Despite his pain, Adrian nearly froze in fear.

 _Why is the bird looking into the pond? What does it see?_

A thought so horrific and terrifying passed through Adrian's mind that for a moment he couldn't bring himself any closer. And then the ringing in his ears amplified by a hundred, and he fell to his knees in agony.

"Mary! Mary!" The bird shrieked.

Adrian's hands clasped his ears so tightly his knuckles were whitened and shaking. He looked up through the pain at the rippling pond, and brought himself to his feet. The wind picked up, swirling around him with the warmth of summer but with the hollowness of fall. It was maddening.

With a leap of faith, or a step of madness, Adrian drew himself towards the pond and forced himself to look. He did not expect to see something looking _back_ at him. But just then the ringing in his ears seized, and he fell head first into the water.

* * *

The land of magic is everywhere, and sometimes nowhere at all. Castle Blackhill existed in the land of magic, but it also existed in wild forest. It is a land hidden away, and growing smaller, its many thousands of doors closing one by one.

Adrian knew the land of magic very well: he had just fallen into it. When he broke through the surface of the water, he did not plunge into the shallow depths of a pond, but instead a passage to the land of magic that he was sure had never been there before. He fell into a subterranean cavern, illuminated by the daylight above. And there waiting for him was, undoubtedly, a fairy.

"Adrian," she said, her voice as soft as a whisper but as clear as the bells that had stung his ears.

Adrian got to his feet, temporarily disoriented from the absence of the horrific ringing in his ears.

"It was me," said the fairy, "I was calling you."

She was the image of Severa, though instead of wearing a crown of dark crystals, she wore a crown of flowers. Her wrists were bound in chains that connected to the stone wall.

"You're a fairy," said Adrian. "Like my aunt."

She nodded. "I am, though I am _not_ like your aunt. My name is Pandora."

"What are you doing here?"

Pandora shook her wrists, jangling the chains. "The chains are enchanted. Severa has kept me here for some time. She certainly didn't want us to meet."

"My aunt put you here? But, why?"

"Because I'm the only one who knows her plan, and I tried to stop her. Are you ready to hear the truth?"

Adrian gazed at her, wondering if he had hit his head in the fall and was in fact dreaming.

Pandora looked back at him sadly. "Don't tell me you've already given up hope."

Adrian looked at her with pain and fury in his eyes. "I've lost Belle. I've lost everything."

"Belle is _alive_ ," said Pandora, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"How do you know?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat.

"Because she is wearing your mother's necklace. But she _is_ still in danger. She is the one who can break your curse and Severa knows that."

"Where is she? Please—tell me. I can leave the castle if I have a plan."

"First you must know why Severa cursed you. I'm telling you now: once you know, it will change everything," said Pandora.

"Then tell me. I'm ready for it."

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince. He was loved dearly by his family, friends, and the entire kingdom. The prince was bold, brilliant, and adventurous. Raised on the stories of his grandmother who told him of a land of magic, the prince vowed to go there one day and see it for himself. When he turned sixteen, his wish was granted. A mysterious man from far away presented him with a priceless map: one that would take him to the end of the world and into another. So right away the prince arranged a voyage in secret, for he knew his parents would never allow him to go.

The map led the prince to a land of magic, where he spent an entire year exploring. While he was there, he met a beautiful girl his own age. He came upon her as she was watering her horse by a stream. A storm was brewing in the air, so the maiden offered the prince shelter at her home. She lived in a castle, he found.

"Are you a princess?" he asked her.

She laughed. Her family had long lost their influence and power over the land; the only surviving members of her family were her and her sister. They lived in the castle and preserved it, as it was their childhood home and heirloom.

That night the prince and the maiden fell in love. The prince knew that he had to return to his home eventually, if not soon, for his destiny awaited him. But he did not want to leave her.

As their love unfolded, the maiden's sister watched from the shadows. She was a fairy, and a powerful one, hungry and desperate for her family's name to be restored.

 _A prince from the land of men_ , she thought to herself. _In love with my sister._

Many ideas were growing in her head.

After some time had passed, the prince felt his calling to return home. He asked the girl to come with him, but her sister forbade it.

"My sister belongs in the land of magic," she said.

"I am with child," said the girl.

The prince swore to marry her, and so they agreed that he would return once the baby was born and bring them both back to his home. As a token of his commitment, the prince left the girl his sword—the only thing of value he carried.

"Sister, this is our opportunity to restore our family's power. Your child can rule both the land of magic and men with the blood of both," said the fairy.

"No," said the girl. "My child will be raised without that burden. The land of magic is dying, and when we leave, we won't need to return."

This angered the fairy more than she had ever been angered before, because she felt betrayed by her own blood. She left the castle and did not return until a year later, when the baby had been born. A boy.

"Let me teach him magic," the fairy insisted to her sister. "He can be raised to his full potential."

The maiden, now a lady and a mother, refused, and banished her sister from their home.

The prince kept his word and returned to the land of magic, looking for his family. The fairy was waiting for him, however. She produced an enchantment so powerful that she tricked the prince into believing that the girl and their child were murdered. The prince was heartbroken, believing he had lost everything.

So the fairy offered him a serum that would make him forget. He would forget about his girl he loved, and their child. He would be free to continue his life without the pain that weakened him so. In his desperation, he accepted the serum and returned to the land of men.

And so he had no memory of loving a girl in the land of magic, and he had no knowledge that his first born son was there. A son he had named _Adrian_.

* * *

"Her plan is to put you on your father's throne," said Pandora. "And as long as you are bound to the Beast, you are under her control. And so she will seize the power of the land of men and crush it, bringing rise again to the land of magic and the old ways."

"My father," Adrian said slowly, "is alive?"

"Yes," said Pandora. "Very much so."

It felt impossible to him. Too amazing to be true; too horrific.

 _I am my father's enemy, and he is mine_ , he realized. _But not if I can break my curse._

"You said Belle is alive. Tell me—where is she? How do I find her?"

Pandora looked at him sadly. "Belle has been cursed. You will find her, I assure you. But it won't be as you wish it to be. She doesn't remember you anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"She's just like your father; you are not real to her anymore. It was the one thing Severa could do to prevent her from breaking your curse."

 _First my father, and then Belle?_

"Severa's trying to erase me," Adrian said furiously. "If she wants to save the land of magic so badly, why would she do this? Tell me there is a way to change this!"

"Of course there is," said Pandora. "No one's fate is ever written in stone, as much as people would like to believe it, including your aunt. But it's not just your fate that's hanging in the fray—there are two others who play a role in this war against Severa. They are in just as much danger as you."

Adrian raised his eyebrows. "Who are they?"

"You know her: her name is Mary. When she became Belle, she was running from the Necromancer. Now she is Mary again, with no memory of being Belle. Her curse must be broken in order for yours to be. And the other is the prince Stefan. He is your brother."

Adrian's insides froze. "I have a brother?"

Pandora nodded solemnly.

"But that means… he is the heir to the throne. Severa will kill him!"

"All three of you were born with different destinations in life. Severa has meddled with things that she had no right to meddle with, and all three of you have paid the price. Now you will have to stop her, or she will win and they will die. Mary must remember; she and Stefan will die if she doesn't remember."

"How do I do it? How do I find her and make her remember?"

"You're going to have to put your life on the line," said Pandora. "You're going to have to _un_ -erase yourself. Without revealing your curse."

"These are riddles!" Adrian exclaimed. "These are not answers. If I expose myself, they'll kill me! Or I will simply be putting them in even more danger."

"Trust in yourself," Pandora said firmly. "Trust that you will save them. It is the only way you can do this. Now I have told you all you need to know, and it is time for you to free me of these chains."

"How?"

Pandora smiled. "Come back with your father's sword and behold what it can do. Time is running out."


	19. Chapter 19

The afternoon sun beat down upon the clearing in the kingswood, and together Stefan and I sat beneath a tree, watching his cousin Gaspard slash away at the squires brave enough to train with him. One by one, or two by two, he knocked them into the dust with excessive force. Gaspard was quick on his feet and quite strong, and he loved to fight. It was his favorite sport.

"He's probably going to win the tournament," Stefan murmured.

"The reward is quite enormous," I said.

"He's not doing it for the gold; just the glory. If anyone is going to the lay the head of a beast at my father's feet and smile about it, it's him."

Gaspard fought dirty. He didn't give his opponents an inch, and he would keep going at them even after they gave up. It was as if he _needed_ to be violent.

"You saw it, then? The Beast?"

Stefan nodded.

"What did it look like?"

"It was three times the size of a lion," he said. "It had everything—claws, fangs, horns, and fur. But it was unlike any creature I had ever seen before."

I shivered at the thought of it. I took a deep breath. "Last night I had a dream about the Necromancer. He's still out there somewhere, isn't he?"

When Stefan looked at me, there seemed to be fear in his eyes. "He…is," he said uncomfortably. "But he can't touch you here, Mary."

"I had a dream that he found me again."

Stefan placed his hands gently but firmly on my arms and looked me deep in the eyes. "He won't. That's why you're here—so I can protect you until we find him and kill him."

"But everyone is looking for a Beast. They're not looking for the Necromancer."

A shrill cry of pain interrupted our conversation. We switched our gazes to the poor boy Gaspard had just slashed. There was a cut across the back of his leg and blood was now dripping onto the ground. From the looks of it, Gaspard was just about to stomp him into the dirt.

"That's enough!" Stefan said, standing. "Cousin—take him up to the physician's office now or I'll have my father expel you from the tournament!"

Gaspard threw the prince an angry glare. "I don't recognize your authority over me, cousin. Mind your own business."

Stefan's nostrils flared, and he stormed over to the wounded squire and helped him up. I rushed over and supported his other side as we walked him to his horse. The boy was trembling in pain. Gaspard spat on the ground.

"There's something wrong with him," I whispered to Stefan.

"Everything's wrong with him," he said, helping the squire onto his horse. "Tell my father what Gaspard did. He will pay for the treatment of your wound," he told the boy.

"The prince is a bleeding heart boy! You would never last in the tournament anyway," Gaspard remarked.

Stefan turned to him, his eyes blazing with anger. "Just _shut it_ , Gaspard."

"What? You're too good to spar with me now? Don't want to get kicked in the dirt in front of your girlfriend?"

"Is that what you want? You want to _fight_ me now?"

Gaspard shrugged, a smug smile curling over his lips. "You're just mad that you got wounded and are useless. I actually feel sorry for you."

"Wounded?" I asked. "What is he talking about?"

Stefan turned away from Gaspard. "Let's get out of here," he said to me. "Before my cousin does something he will most certainly regret."

We mounted Stefan's horse and he took us up the path through the wood, Gaspard's laughter trailing behind us.

* * *

"Something's on your mind," I remarked.

We sat beside a trickling stream in the late afternoon, somewhere no one could find us. Stefan was becoming more and more withdrawn from his friends and family. I knew I was partially to blame, but I also knew he was hiding something. We both were.

The prince gazed at the water as it made it ways over the rocks and earth, gleaming sometimes in the spots of sunlight that found its way in through the treetops. I noticed him gazing into the distance quite often, lately.

"Mary, what happened to your home?" he asked.

I heaved a sigh, internally. "I don't know," I said quietly. "All I know is that my step-mother is dead now."

He thought for a moment. "If she's dead, then nothing is in the way of you reclaiming what's yours."

I ran my fingers through my hair uncomfortably. "I don't want to go back there again."

He looked at me, his hazel eyes not understanding. "But it's you home. You should take it back."

I didn't like where this was going, but I couldn't avoid the topic if he was asking me. "Stefan… the night we met, the night of the ball—something happened. And I made the choice to never return to that house again. Everything with the Necromancer occurred then and that's the only reason I've ended up back here: because of you. If—if you don't want me to stay at the castle anymore, then I have to leave. But I'm not going back to the place I once called home."

He looked at me in shock, a twinge of hurt in his eyes. "I don't want you to leave," he said. "But I need to make sure you're going to be okay. How can you be okay if you don't have a home?"

I didn't want to get angry with him because he was sincere, but I was growing frustrated having to explain myself. "I wasn't okay when I _had_ a home, and I'm not okay now. Is that why you like me?"

Stefan looked away, his cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean to question you," he said apologetically. "I can't even imagine what you've been through. But when I brought you here, I thought it would make things easier for you, and selfishly, I thought it would make things easier for me too."

I didn't understand. "So what's changed?"

"It's my father," said the prince. "Or should I say, the _king_. He's got this plan to leave the kingdom, passing the crown to me so he can gallivant across the world. But I haven't exactly been making it easy for him, and he's retaliated."

"What happened?"

"He says we must marry, or he'll send you away. I didn't think he would actually do something like that until now. But he's serious."

A hallow silence fell between us, and for a moment I was taken out of the tranquility of the wood with the bubbling stream with the prince, and I was staring into the imperceptibly dark abyss of the uncertainty of my life. I didn't want to marry Stefan.

It didn't make sense, of course. The night we met I didn't even now he _was_ the prince and I wondered— _did I fall in love_? There was something about him that I couldn't explain, something that made me want him but not want him all at once, and I was so afraid of breaking his heart, because the prince was the kindest person—he was perfect. And I didn't deserve him. Not after what I did to Lorna.

"What should we do?" I asked quietly.

"We could leave," he said.

I gazed at him in astonishment. "Leave? You? But you're the _prince_."

He shook his head. "I don't want to be. I want to see the ocean. I want to feel the hull of a ship rolling over the waves beneath my feet. I want to see a new land with my own eyes, and never have to feel the weight of a kingdom on my shoulders again. We- we don't have a lot of time in this world, to do the things we want. What are our lives worth if we live it always for others and never for ourselves?"

"You're right," I said. "It isn't fair. You should choose what to do with each day you live. It just seems like a lot to leave behind."

"I don't want to leave you behind," he said. "But there may come a time when you need to return home. Can you at least _consider_ reconsidering, for me?"

I looked at him, a funny feeling growing in my heart. "You make it sound like you're going to vanish."

His eyes were unreadable, but certainly there were many words hanging there. "Nobody just _vanishes_ ," he said. "But sometimes they die."

* * *

The sun was setting as I left the castle, the summer heat dissipating into the darkening sky. Stefan's personal guard, Lance, rode a long beside me on his horse as I led the way to the home I swore never to return to. A memory like a tomb. I asked Stefan not to come with me.

We didn't say much as we wound our way down through the kingdom. Villagers were mostly tucked away in their houses eating dinner, or closing up their shops. The streets were as dry as dust.

I rode the horse at a steady pace along the small lane off of the main street where my old home awaited in the darkness. I could see from outside of the gates that no lights were lit inside.

 _Maybe the house is empty_ , I thought to myself hopefully. In his coat Lance had a warranty deed from the king—really Stefan, using his father's signature, for the house to be passed into my possession. I couldn't kick my step-sisters out without looking them in the eye, and legally I had to account for my things in person. Not that I had owned much, anyway.

In any case, I had settled upon the idea of allowing my step-sisters to stay living in the house as long as they properly paid rent and maintained it respectfully.

 _They'll have to find work_ , I thought to myself with surprising delight. _Now they'll know what it's like to scrub a fireplace._

We walked through the garden and up to the front door. I opened it without a sound, and we entered.

Lance followed me as I quietly stepped through the entrance hall and into the dining room. Empty, everything in its place. _No one's been eating in the dining room_ , I noted.

The kitchen was also empty, save for the dying embers in the fireplace. Old Mia had left some time ago.

The living room, however, was changed: above the fireplace upon the mantle hung a large portrait of Lorna and her daughters, DiDi and Anna. The picture must have been newly painted right before she died. Lorna's cold eyes looked down upon me as I stared back up at them.

"Lance," I said. "Could you help me take this down?"

I lit one last fire in that house and set the portrait into it, watching it burn slowly. That's how my step-sisters found me.

"You!" Anna shrieked. "What are _you_ doing here?!"

DiDi trailed in behind her, her mouth set in fury.

Lance stepped in front of me, reaching into is coat for the king's warrant. "This home now belongs to Mary," he said. "She is the sole owner of this property and everything in it."

The sisters exchanged glances. I stepped up beside Lance. "I want you to know that I forgive you for the way you treated me. And I forgive your mother. I'm sorry she's gone, but I have to take back my home now."

Anna snatched the warrant from Lance's grasp and read it, her eyes zig-zagging down the document.

"I thought the Necromancer took care of you," said Didi. "And then you show up in the arms of the prince and now you're taking our home out from under our feet when you will soon have an entire _kingdom_ in your possession?! You are an evil _bitch_!" She spat on the floor at my feet.

"Watch yourself!" Lance said authoritatively, stepping between us. "Mary is under the prince's protection. You can be arrested if you don't mind your behavior."

Anna's nostrils flared in the firelight. "Well now that you are here, you can admit to what you did. Say it. You _killed_ our mother!" her voice broke.

Lance looked to me, his eyebrows raised in shock and confusion. I steadied myself.

"I don't know what happened to Lorna," I said evenly. "I wasn't here when she died."

DiDi scoffed. "You didn't need to be here, because her tea was poisoned. Someone threw out the evidence—but we know that's what happened. She told us it was you! _You're_ the one who should be arrested!"

I was startled by how much they knew. My hands began to tremble.

"Do you want them to leave?" Lance asked.

I breathed carefully through my nose. "I will allow you both to stay, but you will have to pay rent and manage the upkeep of the house and the garden. Old Mia will be retiring."

I left them in the living room with Lance as I climbed the stairs of the house. I passed the second floor and continued up the stairs to the tower attic; my room.

It was another place that had frozen in time. My bed was made, untouched. My few things were in place—nothing worth stealing, in my step-sisters' eyes. I walked over to the window and looked out: there it was, Stefan's castle looming brightly in the sky. The same view, but not the same feeling when I looked at it. For a fleeting moment I remembered what it used to feel like, to stare up at the king's castle as it gleamed in the night.

I turned away from the view and left my old bedroom, closing the door behind me. Downstairs the sisters were having a heated discussion in the living room. Lance was waiting for me by the front door.

"I told them you would arrange for their rent to be paid shortly," he said. "They're discussing ways to take this to court."

I shrugged. "Let them."

We walked through the garden back out to the gates, mounted the horses, and set back upon the road towards the castle. My job was done.

* * *

As the sisters ranted and raved and cried and broke things in the living room, a knock on the front door interrupted their fury. They simmered down and glanced at each other in confusion.

"Who could that be?" Anna asked. "At this hour?"

DiDi threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know who it is, I wasn't expecting anyone! I wasn't expecting _any_ of this!"

" _Get_ the door!"

" _You get it_!"

Anna snatched a porcelain plate off of the mantle and threw it at her sister's feet before storming out of the living room and into the hall. DiDi followed on her heels, ready to pull her back by her hair.

"Get off me!" Anna shrieked as she opened the door.

A stranger stood upon the steps.

"Who are you?" Anna asked brusquely, pushing DiDi out of the door frame.

The old man with heavily hooded eyes was agape as the sisters struggled and wrestled before him, until they finally stopped and stared at him expectantly.

"My—my name is Riss, if it pleases you," he said. "I was w-w-wondering if you could help me find someone. A girl named M-M-Mary is supposed to live here, c-correct? Someone is looking for her."


	20. Chapter 20

Tamsin visited me the next morning; we were becoming friends. She was a real princess—just as they should be, kind, smart, beautiful, and regal. I was growing to trust her.

Together we walked down through the castle and into the courtyard where breakfast was served.

"Have you seen my cousin?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Not since yesterday."

Tamsin looked away, wondering. "I heard Gaspard has been an utter tyrant. I wonder if Stefan is avoiding him."

I thought back to the day before, to the strange thing Stefan had said:

"… _But sometimes they die."_

"I need to talk to the prince," I said. "I'm worried about him."

Tamsin nodded sadly. "We've all been worried about him, ever since, well you know-"

I shook my head. "Ever since what?"

Tamsin cocked her head, her eyes passing over me in confusion. "Well, ever since the Necromancer wounded him. He almost died. Didn't you know?"

Suddenly Marius appeared next to Tamsin, he eyes wide as he glared at her. "Tamsin," he said sharply. "What are you doing?"

She was taken aback by his urgency. The prince's best friend seemed pale and ill. His eyes were red, as if he hadn't slept.

"What are _you_ doing?" She snapped back at him.

"A word, please," he said, steering her away by the arm. I watched them go with raised eyebrows.

Marius returned a moment later, his cheeks flushed crimson. "Mary," he said uneasily.

"Yes? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"It's about Stefan. I… I have to ask you something-"

Just then, there was a light tugging on my sleeve. One of the castle page boys, no older than ten, looked up at me expectantly.

"Are you Mary?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Good!" he said. "The prince Stefan has arranged for your appointment at the castle gates. Your visitor is waiting."

I shook my head, confused. "Stefan did what? I have a visitor?"

The page boy nodded. "They are waiting now, if it please you."

I looked to Marius apologetically. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't know. I guess I should go see who it is…"

Marius nodded silently. I could feel him watching me go.

 _That was weird_ , I thought.

* * *

The morning was already so hot and bright, even in the final dredges of summer. I squinted in the sunlight as the page boy led me from the courtyard, through the castle halls and outside again, making our way down to the gates where visitors waited.

 _Who could it possibly be?_ I wondered. And then I spotted Didi standing in the shadow of a fountain. As I approached her I realized her face was wrought with grief and her eyes were swollen with tears. When she saw me, she hid her face in a handkerchief, her shoulders heaving.

"Didi," I said cautiously. "What are you doing here? What's happened?"

I had only just seen her the night before when I had served her the deed for the house, leaving her and Anna in furious hysterics.

Didi blew her nose into the handkerchief and sniffed hard before answering. "Oh, Mary," she sobbed. "It's terrible… it's _awful_!"

"What is?" I asked, stepping closer.

"There was an accident," she said tearfully, clutching the handkerchief tightly in her fist. I had never seen her so upset before. My mind started racing.

"Tell me what happened," I said.

"It… it may be too late," she cried. "I'm afraid this could be goodbye…"

"What are you talking about?" I urged her. "Just say it!"

Didi sighed dramatically. "It's Old Mia," she said.

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. _No_ , I thought. _No, it cannot be!_

"You must come at once."

I did not hesitate. I rushed to the gates and quickly explained to the guards that there was an emergency. Didi had a coach waiting outside the castle grounds.

And the next thing I knew we were bumping along and winding our way down the streets, heading back to the house I swore I left behind.

* * *

Stefan woke with a start, staring wildly around at his darkened bedroom. His mind had been so far away that he had to take a few moments to realize that he was even awake. There was a knock on his door.

Sluggishly he stumbled out of his bed and to his door, wincing in pain as the bright morning light from the hallway hit him full-on. Through the blur the prince recognized his friend Marius standing there.

"You were still sleeping," he noted.

Stefan blinked in the light. "I didn't mean to," he said dreamily. "I took some sleeping medicine for the pain. It's started to come back."

Marius stepped in and closed the door tightly behind him. "Mary knows," he said immediately. "Soon everyone will know. The potion you took is wearing off and you won't be able to hide it anymore."

"I know," Stefan said, sitting down on his bed as Marius flung open the curtains, bringing in the daylight. "Mary is the very person I _can't_ hide it from."

"Is that why you're keeping her occupied? Only minutes ago she was whisked away for an appointment you arranged-"

"—She what?" Stefan interrupted.

They exchanged confused glances.

"I didn't arrange for any appointment."

* * *

I tried to get more information out of Didi on our way to the house but she only sobbed and hid her face. Then the carriage came to a screeching halt at the gates and I jumped out, leaving DiDi behind.

"Mia!" I shouted, looking around frantically for her. The dining room was empty, as were the living room and den. I burst into the kitchen and noticed the back door was wide open. I followed the overgrown path through the garden and over to the stable that had once held my father's horse.

Inside was dark; I had to squint to see into the dusty shadows and there appeared to be nothing there. But then, as I turned to go, my thoughts frantic and my heart slamming against the inside of my chest, a voice said my name.

" _Mary_ …"

I stopped, and I looked around—and saw a small sliver of light illuminate the darkness in the barn. The voice had come from the light, I was sure of it…

" _It's a trap_ ," the voice said, a high pitch voice like the ringing of bells.

 _The voice of a fairy._

I peered into the light, trying to see her face.

" _You must wear the necklace_ ," said the voice, " _Find the necklace and wear it like you promised. It will protect you_ …"

 _What does that mean?_ I thought.

"Who are you?" I demanded, squinting into the light but I was still unable to see the fairy.

" _Leave this place_!" The voice urged. " _Leave it or you'll never break your curse! Find the necklace!"_

The necklace? The one I was wearing when Stefan found me? Why would I put that back on- I didn't even know if it was mine!

"What do you mean?" I urged the voice, temporarily entranced by the lightness and the sound of bells.

"Who are you talking to?"

I spun around. It was Didi, standing there upon the garden path with her hands on her hips.

"No one," I said quickly. "Where is Old Mia? Why isn't she here?"

Didi cracked a smile. "She _is_ here. Come." She turned and made her way calmly back up the path.

I hesitated before following her, the fairy's strange words echoing through my head. Behind me in the barn there was no trace of the light or the voice that had just been there.

 _So had I imagined it?_

An early autumn breeze blustered through the garden and upset the trees. I ducked back inside the kitchen as a flurry of dying leaves showered down from above. Didi disappeared around the corner. I followed her into the hall as she waited for mat the foot of the staircase.

"Tell me what's going on!" I demanded.

She nodded her head up the stairs. "Go on," she said. "Mia is just up there. She wants to see you."

"I thought there was an accident," I remarked.

The second floor was deserted: I was meant to go continue up to the tower, but I stopped before taking the first step.

"Mia?" I called out uncertainly.

"I'm here!" she called down to me. It was _her_ voice, I realized with relief.

Anna appeared in the doorway to my bedroom, her silhouette dark against the morning sunlight. "Be quick, Mary," she said.

I ascended the stairs and stepped past Anna into the tower. Old Mia was laid in my bed, the covers drawn up to her chin.

"Are you okay?" I asked, hurrying to her side and taking her hand. "Tell me what's happened."

I didn't even notice Anna leaving; she closed the door soundlessly behind her.

Old Mia's face was thin and pale—she looked ill, _quite ill_ , although she hadn't only a few days ago. Her hands were as cold as ice. "Mary," she wheezed. "It's for you. They did this for _you_."

My eyes scanned her face as my heart continued to race. "Did what?"

"Poison," she said weakly. "They gave me the poison that killed Lorna."

I jumped to my feet, my body shaking. "No," I said slowly, "they can't-"

Old Mia suddenly snatched my wrist, her fingers drawn tightly around it. "Listen to me," she said. "There is something you can do."

"What?" I said in confusion as tears of panic filled my eyes. "What—what can I do?"

From beneath the covers Old Mia produced an apple, and grasped it in her palm. "For you, my dear. It's all for you."

I looked at the apple and then I looked back at Old Mia, her face twisted in pain. She was holding the apple out for me to take.

But I did not reach for it.

"You must take a bite to make things right," she said in a dreamy, sing-song voice.

The fruit was so shiny I could see my own reflection in it, blurred and stretched. A tremor of fear struck my heart.

 _Find the necklace_ , the fairy had said, _It will protect you!_

Just then, a frantic knocking on the front door echoed through the house and up to the tower.

"Quickly now," said Old Mia. "Do what's needed."

The urgent knocking continued.

"Wait," I said to Old Mia. "I need to figure out what's going on-" I reached for the door to find that it was stuck closed. Anna had locked it from the _outside_.

I gasped and turned around; Old Mia was now standing, the apple shaking in her trembling fist. "Take a bite," she said steadily.

"You're—you're not-"

I couldn't even choke the words out before the creature lunged towards me. I ducked and ran towards the window.

"Help!" I yelled out in the air.

The creature seized me from behind and yanked me away from the window. And then I saw its face: it was some kind of elf, with piercing golden eyes. I screamed.

"Mary!"

I heard a voice from outside, down in the yard. It sounded like the prince.

"I'm here!" I screamed.

"Take a bite to make things right," the elf repeated, wrestling me to the floor.

"No!" I yelled, kicking my legs against him as hard as I could, thrashing out of his grasp. He was going to try to force the apple into my mouth.

I don't know how much time passed as I fought against the elf, but somewhere along the way I knocked the apple out of its grasp and it rolled underneath my bed. The elf hissed angrily as wings erupted out of its back.

"Stefan!" I screamed.

I could hear the prince on the other side of the door. "She's in here!" he was shouting.

The door rattled, the creature hissed, and upon its bony wings it dove out the window and out of sight.

At last the door heaved against its frame and shuddered to the floor. Stefan, Lance, and Marius all stepped into the room with swords brandished.

By the time Stefan reached me I was shaking with tears.

"It's gone," I managed to say.

"Was it the Necromancer?" Stefan asked frantically, helping me up and holding me tightly.

"No," I said. "No—it was something else. I don't know what. It had yellow eyes—and wings-"

The boys exchanged worried glances.

"Take the step-sisters to the castle," Stefan said to Lance. "They will not be permitted their freedom until they confess to what they conspired."

Lance nodded and exited the tower, Marius in his wake.

"I'm sorry," Stefan said in my ear as I cried. "I've got you now. I've got you, Mary…"


	21. Chapter 21

The sun was bright and the city was quiet as we rode back up to the castle- Stefan and I on his horse, and Marius behind us upon his. Didi and Anna were under arrest, and soon they would be escorted to the castle to be put into the custody of the prince. No one spoke as the horses steadily traversed the streets, and I myself was still recovering from the shock of nearly being kidnapped- by _what_ , though? Was it the Necromancer?

At some point I could feel the prince trembling. I placed my hand over his to steady him. Was he afraid?

The horse continued on. Stefan continued to tremble. I shifted to turn and face him.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

His face was white and strained. He didn't seem to hear me.

"Stefan," I said gently, stopping the horse. I looked into his eyes- and it clicked. He was horribly _ill_.

My heart began to race as his eyes began to close.

" _Marius_!" I screamed. "Stefan is passing out!"

The prince lost consciousness and let go of the reins. I grabbed hold of him and we rolled off the horse and into the dirt. Marius was there, suddenly, as we huddled over Stefan. His eyes were closed, his skin as pale as a ghost's...

Marius slapped his cheeks. "Stefan!" He yelled. "You have to wake up!"

We were attracting attention now. Passerbys on the street stopped to watch in horror as we knelt over the prince.

"Help me get him back on the horse!" Marius screamed to the people around us. "He needs medical attention _now_!"

I stood back and watched as two men helped Marius position the prince back upon his horse where Marius steadied him. I promptly scrambled onto Marius's horse and followed after them as he rode carefully but swiftly back to the castle.

And that's when I realized something terrible had happened to Stefan, only I couldn't remember it. And now I was the last to know.

* * *

The day stretched into endless hours of chaos as the news spread of Stefan's fall. Once we brought him back to the castle, the king's team of medics whisked him away. Marius stormed off without a word, and I was left to wait alone.

The solitude was not comforting. I stared into a mirror at myself, willing myself to remember what had happened. Stefan had hidden this from me- why?

 _Because it was my fault_ : that's why. He was dying and he was protecting me.

 _I wish it were me who was dying,_ I thought bitterly. _The prince is good. He cannot die!_

Out of nowhere there was a knock on my door.

"Mary? Are you in there?" Tamsin asked from outside.

I let her in and we embraced each other tightly.

"It's crazy, what has happened," she said. "You need to tell me what's going on."

"Stefan fell from his horse- it came out of nowhere. Like, suddenly he was just- _dying_. Tamsin- I think he _is_ dying."

My explanation was all over the place, but so was my mind.

Tamsin took a deep breath. "I don't know the truth," she said. "I don't think anyone does at this point."

"I would," I said sullenly. "If only I could remember. _Damn_ it, Tamsin! I _hate_ myself!"

"Don't blame yourself," she said sharply. "You are not responsible for what happened to Stefan."

I wished I could agree with her. I wished it were that easy. My heart was heavy and growing heavier now.

"I want to see him," I said.

"I'll take you," said a voice from the door way.

It was Marius standing there.

We walked in silence. The castle itself had fallen silent, and so our footsteps echoed softly down the halls. Higher up in the castle we came to Stefan's room and slipped inside.

The prince lay in his bed, his eyes closed. The medics had stabilized him and now he was under a careful watch. His chest rose and sank methodically, and his cheeks were now burning red.

Marius and I took seats on opposite sides of the bed.

"Tell me what happened," I said quietly, staring down at the prince.

"The Necromancer attacked him. Filled him with a poison with no cure in this land."

"So why didn't I know this before? He has been well since he found me."

"Because he took a serum that restored his health temporarily. It is wearing off, you can see, and now his death is written. Also, you _did_ know before. We were _both_ there when it happened."

My stomach was turning tightly as Marius spoke.

"He was looking for me, wasn't he?"

"Yes," said Marius. "But when we found you, you refused to come with us. You knew Stefan was injured but you turned away."

" _What_?"

We stared at each other from across the bed.

"But of course, you don't remember." he said bitterly.

"That's enough."

It was Stefan.

He looked up at us both with pleading eyes.

Marius stood. "I'll come back later." And then he left.

"Mary-"

"Stefan," I said shakily. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't tell you."

I grabbed his hand and held on to it tightly, tears rising to my throat. " _What do you mean_ , Stefan? I could've done something to help you- it didn't have to end up this way-"

I could see fear growing in his eyes and it made me hate myself even more.

His voice was strained. "When I met you," he said, "I felt like I could face the future. Like we were always supposed to meet by accident, but I don't believe it was an accident at all, do _you_?"

I shook my head, hot tears spilling from my eyes. "Accidents happen," I managed to say. "But I don't think it was either."

"That night we met was the perfect accident, though," he said. "Because we met as equals. You didn't know who I was and I didn't know who you were yet I knew I loved you."

I grabbed his hand and held on to it tightly, as if we were tumbling through the chaos and coldness of the raging sea and if we were to be separated it would be for forever.

"You're not going to die," I said firmly. "Not as long as I'm breathing."

He managed to smile. "I wish it were that easy."

"It is," I said defiantly.

"Why do you say such things?"

"Because I believe it," I said. "You should have told me about all of this sooner."

The prince shook his head. "Mary: there is nothing you can do about it. There's nothing anyone can do about it."

More tears poured, but I swear I was trying to be brave.

"Stop it!" I said. "You just have to believe, okay? If you give up then certainly you _will_ die!"

"Believe what?" he said, his voice heavy with frustration. "That all of this never happened? That there is still a chance for me- that I can cheat death? I can't do it. Not anymore. I fought for what I believed in and I paid the price- and I _don't_ regret it. I just wanted to know you, Mary. And I wish we had more time-"

He looked away as his voice broke. I quickly poured him some water from the pitcher at his bedside. He drank deeply.

"If you believed that we met for a reason then let that reason be this: I will _save_ you. I _won't_ let you die for me!"

He smiled gently again, though I could see he was falling deeper into his fever. "I just wanted something to live for. Something that wasn't thrust upon me like everything else... all my life I was told which direction to take, was told exactly who I was. But with you it was different. Do you understand?"

I nodded. Of course I understood, but that wasn't the point.

Stefan laid back, resting his head upon the pillow and he seemed to stare at something I could not see.

"Tell me," he said softly, "what do you dream about?"

Before I could answer, the bedroom door swung open and the king entered. I abruptly stood and curtsied.

"Father," Stefan said faintly. I scurried to the door as the king sat down beside his son and looked down upon him. I silently closed the door behind me as I stepped out into the hall on shaking legs. To my surprise, Marius was there sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his head buried in his knees. I sunk to the floor beside him and we sat in a long, heavy silence.

"You know," I said stiffly, "you're not the only one who loves him."

Marius looked up at me with swollen eyes full of contempt. Without a word he got to his feet and took off down the corridor and turned the corner.

 _Well, it's true_ , I thought bitterly.

But it's not like any of that mattered anymore.


	22. Chapter 22

Day of the tournament.

* * *

 **CHAMPION'S TOURNEY**

 **PARTICIPANTS WILL ENROLL TO COMPETE FOR THE ULTIMATE PRIZE-**

 **10,00 GOLD PIECES**

 **AND**

 **THE HONOR OF LEADING THE HUNT FOR THE BEAST**

 **WINNER STARTS THE HUNT AT DAWN, THE HUNT ENDS WHEN THE HEAD OF THE BEAST IS DELIVERED TO THE KING.**

 **FIGHT BRAVELY!**

* * *

The people from the city met at the tourney camp just outside the kingswood on a muggy, early autumn morning. The dirt-filled arena had been used for many a tourney before, but none so big and celebrated as this one- with hundreds of entries made of distinguished knights, king's men, foreign fighters, hired swords, noblemen, paupers, the young man and old alike. Everyone wanted a shot at not just the prize money, but the glory of leading the hunt against the now infamous and feared Beast of the Wild Forest. So now the city was buzzing with prospective heroes suiting up for a day of combat to prove their worth.

Those who arrived early were lucky enough to snag seats in the stands that rose a couple of stories high, and everyone else had to stand outside the arena simply listening to the combat inside, some selling food, others performing music and poems... This tournament had become an impromptu holiday in this land. But why not, of course? This Beast was the mark of evil and it had attacked their beloved prince. The collective adrenaline flowed through the air like a breeze.

Inside the arena the crowd was in an uproar over the first defeat- or rather, the first victory. It was Gaspard himself, cousin to the king and the prince, a young nobleman with raven locks and bulging muscles and the attitude of an antagonized bull. With his sword he beat his poor opponent into the dirt in less than two minutes. On the other side of the field was an adjacent fight that carried on for longer. And so the day progressed through the winners and losers as the list of men left standing became shorter and shorter.

"You should've gotten us here sooner; we were supposed to have better _seats_!" Severa hissed to the Necromancer as they surveyed the crowd from the top of the stands.

"I can see perfectly from up here," the Necromancer replied curtly, "and it's _my_ eyes that need to behold the winner, as it's _my_ assigned task to assassinate them upon _your_ wretched orders!"

"Don't complain; I am letting you off easy after your last blunder. You swore to deliver the girl from Blackhill but somehow she slipped through our fingers? And now this?"

The Necromancer rudely sucked air through his teeth. "That was your assistant that didn't fulfill the promise. I raised the dead and they attacked as I said they would. Your funny little elf friend failed to deliver the girl."

The Necromancer and the Enchantress abruptly stopped talking as a serving wench stopped and gazed at them. The crowd around them was too preoccupied with the tournament below to notice their conversation at all. Severa blew the serving girl a kiss and in a second the girl turned and wandered away, quite unaware of what had just happened.

"Riss will return with an explanation," Severa replied. "He knows what will happen if he doesn't. You see, he is a smart little elf, unlike you."

"I am not an elf."

"Nor are you smart."

The Necromancer spat on the floor.

The tournament progressed with mounting excitement as the sun dragged itself across the sky. Below the thousands of spectators Gaspard slashed, smashed and clashed his way through each opponent. King Peter himself had left his son's bedside to oversee the fighting and to crown the winner. Once there had been hundreds of men enlisted in the tournament; then there were mere dozens, and then a final twelve. The afternoon was growing hot and hazy.

And then came the final countdown:

Gaspard versus Sir Tanner; Gaspard versus Aaron of Sandhill; Gaspard versus Lord Meadows... he defeated them all.

In the shadow of the late noon Gaspard's final opponent stepped into the arena.

The crowd was hushed by now, the tournament drawing to a dramatic end. The figure was dressed head to toe in a strange, dark armor. He held on to his sword tightly as he met Gaspard at the center of the arena.

King Peter stood upon the dais, raising his voice for all to hear. "And now we will witness the last challenge of the day. This fight will not be to the death, of course—but don't hold back, for the Beast certainly will not. The fate of the entire kingdom lies upon the outcome of this tourney." He stepped back and took a seat, the nobles around him looking on in anticipation.

The horn sounded once for the combat to begin. Gaspard seized the last few moments to flash his muscles to the crowd before facing his opponent.

"Got a name?" He asked him, giving his sword a few practice swings through the air. "I want to know your name before I erase it from this kingdom."

The figure in the dark armor responded by kicking a cloud of dirt up into the air between them, and in a flash he checked Gaspard with a sword to the back of his knees. Gaspard gasped; he was not cut, but his opponent had unexpectedly slammed steel into his legs and he was caught off guard and subsequently humiliated; the crowd burst into laughter as Gaspard quickly recovered and spun around.

Their swords clashed the sound rung through the air. Gaspard's opponent was fast and imperceptibly strong. With every lunge and swing Gaspard missed, though he was sure he could defeat him with brute force alone. Gaspard could endure a fight longer than anyone he had ever faced. But it was clear this opponent in dark armor did not intend for it to be a combat of endurance; he met every blow with equal force, moving fast on his feet and swiftly through the dusty breeze swooping through the arena.

The spectators could no longer hold back and the arena filled with a thunderous uproar of stomping feet.

Gaspard's opponent ducked a blow and twisted around to lay his blade hard into his shield, knocking Gaspard's sword from his hand. He was a fighter no one had seen before, and his dark armor gave no clue to what house or land he came from.

 _It doesn't matter where he's from_ , Gaspard thought furiously as he snatched his sword up from the dirt, just barely dodging his opponent's next attack. _Because I'm not going to send him back there; I'm going to kill him._

Hidden in Gaspard's belt was a small dagger. With one swift movement he snatched it free and flung it straight towards his opponent's chest.

For a moment suspended in time, the dagger rotated through the air towards the opponent in dark armor. It was a bulls-eye shot, for sure, Gaspard thought- _it's going to hit him square in the chest!_

But the dagger did something quite different: it changed directions and landed in the dirt.

The crowd gasped- but had they seen it? Had they seen what Gaspard had just seen? It was _impossible_!

"What the-"

And then his opponent laid in on him with a lightning fast attack, slashing at him faster than anyone had ever before. Gaspard lost his footing- and the next moment his opponent stared down upon him, the sun eclipsed behind his head. Gaspard's sword was now out of reach and his opponent's sword was resting lightly upon his throat.

A horn sounded; the crowd exploded. The tournament had been won.

King Peter leaped to his feet, applauding ecstatically. It was a long time before the arena was quieted again.

"Come forth so I may crown the champion," the king instructed to the figure in dark armor. Gaspard stood as still as a statue, silently seething as he watched the victor step up to the dais and take a knee.

"You have fought bravely and fairly," the king announced, "and so it is you will we trust to lead the Beast hunt. It will be your challenge alone to bring me the head of the Beast. Do you accept this task?"

The victor nodded.

The king beamed and the spectators applauded.

"Then it is done," the king announced. "Rise, and show us who you are."

The victor removed his helmet, his dark hair falling out to his shoulders. Way up high in the stands, Severa let out an audible shriek.

King Peter gazed at the boy.

"What is your name?"

Adrian gazed back up at him with matching hazel eyes. "My name is Adrian."

The king seemed momentarily taken aback. "Just Adrian, is it?" he asked.

He nodded.

"Well then, hand me your sword and we will make it official."

He did as he was told, and as the king saw the raven pommel he was struck again. He took the sword into his own hand and held it up, his eyes moving over the blade that was strangely familiar to him. His hand fit perfectly upon the raven pommel- it was his very won sigil when he was once a prince.

"Where did you get this?" the king whispered aloud.

"It was my father's," Adrian replied.

King Peter shook his head; _don't be ridiculous_ , he thought to himself. _Just because it reminds you of something you once had doesn't mean it is_.

"I name you champion," the king said, placing the sword on each of Adrian's shoulders and finally upon the crown of his head. "And there will be a feast tonight at the castle where you are invited to come claim your gold. The hunt will begin at sunrise."

Adrian nodded and the crowd cheered for one last time. Gaspard watched from the shadows, his mind racing.

"It cannot be," Severa hissed to the Necromancer from their place in the stands. "Did you know anything about this?"

The Necromancer couldn't contain his glee. "I did not," he said. "But finally this is getting _interesting_."

* * *

In his dream, Stefan was floating upon the ocean surface. The water was impossibly clear- as if it were designed with billions upon billions of sparkling crystals that gleamed with the colors of the sea and the sky. It was warmed by the sun, and his body was weightless upon the fizzy foam.

 _I have always dreamed of this,_ he thought. _This is freedom. It is death. Death is..._

 _an adventure._

But the sea began to disappear, and the warm water fell away from him, and the billions upon billions of shimmering crystals transformed into the harsh glare of sunlight falling through his window. Stefan woke up.

Marius was there, reading a book at his bedside. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Stefan took a deep breath as he sat himself up. "The fever is gone now, but it will return."

"You need to take something for the pain," said Marius. "If you don't have a lot of time left you can't spend it in pain."

Stefan shook his head. "I can't take anything else. I'm leaving today."

" _What?_!" Marius stood up.

Stefan slipped out of his bed and steadied himself on his feet. "Good," he said, "I can still walk at least."

"This is a joke."

"No," said the prince, taking a deep swig of water, "I'm not dying here, and I'm done saying goodbye. I can't do any of this anymore- _do you understand_? I have to go."

"Where?"

Stefan threw him a mischievous glance. "You know exactly where. Did you find my father's map?"

"I didn't," said Marius, "he's too suspicious- he hid it somewhere new this time, besides you know he was planning on taking it himself."

"Damn it!" Stefan swore. "We need to find it- today. While he's occupied with the tournament and feast. Will you help me?"

Marius shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. "Okay," he said at last. "Fine. Let's find the map."

Stefan grinned, though the pain was slowly coming back to his body.

* * *

The twilight was setting into the sky as I watched the castle staff prepare for the feast from my window. A victor had been crowned to hunt the Beast- the mysterious Beast that plagued my dreams, the monster of the forest.

But all I could think of was Stefan.

When my parents died, it was unexpected. I didn't have a thought in the world of them leaving me until suddenly they were gone, vanished into the forever. So I never understood the pain one feels when they _know_ someone is going to die. When you know someone is going to die, it's the first thing you think of when you wake up. It's a sharp pain behind every smile and good thought- it tears away at your insides agonizingly slow. It was a pain I didn't know existed and now that I felt it I had no means of escape.

 _Why does everything I touch turn to dust?_ I thought bitterly. _The prince will die because of me._

Tamsin urged me to attend the feast. "You need to focus on being well yourself so you can sort out that business with your sisters and reclaim your home," she advised. She was wise beyond her years.

Her seamstress had created a beautiful green dress with flowing sleeves and golden ties for me. Tamsin urged me to wear my hair down. "Only a princess wears her hair down," she said with a wink. I managed to smile.

By nightfall the castle had filled with guests, music, and the wafting smell of the feast. I waited around to see if Stefan was well enough to join us, but he never came.

"Just give him time," Tamsin said, leading me down the stairs towards the dining hall.

 _He doesn't have time_ , I thought morosely.

The dining hall was filled to the brim with guests and light, the activity spilling outside onto the garden terrace. We took our seats at the usual table- but no one else was there; Gaspard, Marius, and of course Stefan were all missing.

"What a day it's been," Tamsin said with a sigh, grabbing two goblets of wine off the adjacent table and handing one to me. "Not even the queen is here."

"Wasn't Gaspard enlisted to compete today?"

Tamsin giggled and nodded. "Ah yes, I forgot about that. That's probably why _he's_ not here."

"Did he win?" I asked.

"Of course not," she said. "Someone else did. Isn't it wonderful?"

We laughed.

After dinner and a few cups of wine to wash down the bad thoughts, I wandered outside to the garden and sat down on a bench near the towering hedges of the maze. The moon was full and bright like it was the night of the ball, when I first met Stefan. Except _that_ had been a summer moon, and it was now autumn and everything was so, so different.

 _I lost my whole summer_ , I thought, _gone with my memory._

I fingered the hidden token inside my dress pocket, thinking for a long time. Eventually someone sat down next to me.

"What would you say if I told you I could help you remember?" said the stranger.

I glanced at them sideways, though they were enshrouded in the tall hedge's shadow. "Excuse me?"

"I know you're missing something," they said. "I can help you find it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do."

I stood. "Who are you?"

They stepped forward into the paling moonlight. "My name is Adrian."

 _You don't know this person_ , my mind told me. And so I took a step back in distrust. He was tall with dark hair, and- and- _YOU DON'T KNOW THIS PERSON._

"And your name is Mary," he said.

"What do you want?" I asked carefully.

 _He could be the someone who is looking for me... He could be working for the Necromancer..._

He stepped forward. "I want you to be safe."

"And why _wouldn't_ I be safe?" I countered.

"Because you're not wearing the necklace," he said.

I froze; _what did he just say?_

"Look," he said, taking yet another step closer, "I know you don't know me. But I know you. And I know that you have it. You promised you would wear it to be safe- all I'm asking is that you keep your promise."

My mouth was dry but my palms were sweaty, my head spinning- _too much wine? No- not enough.._.

"I didn't promise anything," I said with frustration, "I don't even know who you are."

"Look at me," he said.

So I did. His hazel eyes locked onto mine and for a moment I wondered- _do I know you?_

 _No. No. NO!_

"I have to go."

"Mary," he said as I turned to go. I stopped.

"Please. Wear the necklace. If you wear it then I can help you remember!"

 _I DON'T know you!_

My hand was in my pocket. The necklace was there.

I hesitated, and then turned back to him.

"What if I don't _want_ to remember?"

He shook his head. "I know you. A different you- and _she_ would want to remember."

R _emember what?_ I thought. _Being captured by the Necromancer? Watching Stefan get mortally wounded? Remember the wild beast in the forest? Remember killing Lorna?_

No.

 _I refuse to remember._

I drew the necklace out of my pocket and held it in the palm of my hand. The rose pendant glittered in the moonlight.

"I don't want it anymore," I said. "So here, take it back."

The boy named Adrian stared at me incredulously. "Don't do this," he said.

"I've made up my mind," I said simply. "Take it or don't. I'm done being apart of these _riddles_." I let the necklace fall into the grass and I turned away without looking back, my heart beating so loudly in my chest that all the voices around me became a monotonous blur.

 _What just happened? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?_

As I stumbled back into the brightly lit dining hall I ran into Tamsin.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, examining me cautiously.

"Tamsin," I said breathlessly. "I have something I need to tell you."

* * *

High up in one of the castle towers, Marius and Stefan secretly slipped into the king's quarters.

"Okay," said Stefan, "I know the map is in here somewhere. Let's hurry."

Marius nodded, and they began their search.

* * *

 _To be continued._


	23. Chapter 23

Adrian stepped over to the necklace and picked it up off the grass by its chain.

"What did you think would happen? Did you believe she would simply remember you?"

It was Severa.

Adrian turned to face his aunt, the Enchantress. In his anger he was at a loss for words.

She stood, dressed as one of the mortals in a shimmering dress. She looked nothing like his mother had.

"Don't bother with the necklace anyway," she continued. "I can see she succumbed to the curse that I warned her about. There's nothing you can do about it- and that _includes_ this suicide mission you've cooked up."

Adrian looked at his aunt with fire in his eyes. "You can't have me, Severa. The Beast will be exposed and so will I. If they kill me, you've lost, and if they don't-"

" _Enough_!" She cried; in a flash Severa was standing in front of him with her fingers tightly clasped against his chin. "You swore an oath to take the throne, as you are the rightful heir- of the Land of Magic and the Land of Men _both_! We will take it with blood if you do not cooperate."

"You said if I swore it you would spare my mother- but she died because of your treachery! And now I've sworn a _new_ oath, and that's to not use my magic for anything except to destroy you." Adrian grabbed her arm and removed her fingers from his chin.

"You've forgotten," Severa said delicately, "my power over you. I think I'll have to _remind_ you."

Adrian felt a twitch in his brain- the familiar twitch that signified the beginning of his transformation.

"No," he said firmly. "You can't make me change."

Severa gazed at him with the power in her eyes, willing him to bend, to keel over as he resisted. A smile began to form on her lips as she watched Adrian tremble.

"See?" she said. "Despite all your many efforts here we are. I could make you change now, if I wanted to."

Adrian breathed heavily, using every ounce of strength he had in him to resist her pull. He felt like he was going to lose before she suddenly let up, and he buckled to his knees in exhaustion.

"You will be punished for this, Adrian," Severa said.

Adrian spat blood into the grass, clutching his mother's necklace painfully tight. Steadily, he got to his feet.

"I know what your plan is," he said. "I know everything now-"

Adrian gasped in pain as Severa's power assaulted him again, wringing his body's insides to change into the Beast. It was close- he could feel the Beast's claws fighting to emerge from his hands. Blinded with pain, he stumbled back, his feet moving away from the Enchantress.

And then he turned and ran.

* * *

King Peter was finishing up dinner and waiting to meet with the victor of the tournament to give him his gold when he was notified of an urgent visitor.

"What's their business?" he asked impatiently, his eyes scanning the room for the boy named Adrian.

"Umm... She said it has to do with your son the prince, sir," the messenger related uneasily.

King Peter shrugged and then stared at the messenger carefully. The boy was _sweating_.

"My son?"

The messenger nodded. King Peter heaved a heavy sigh and abandoned his spot at the table to lead the way into his private receiving room.

"Fetch some wine and bring it up," the king ordered his cup-bearer. _There's not enough wine in the world.._.

His receiving room was lit with a fire and an open window to the bright night; inside was a woman sitting in a chair by the fire. A goblet of wine was already clasped in her hand. She drank deeply as the king entered. The cup-bearer was told to wait outside.

The king waited for her to stand but she did not.

"You've grown old," she said. "A handsome boy you were though, much like your son. I can only hope that he will one day wear age upon him so proudly as you do."

King Peter furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I don't think we've met. But then a fairy disguising herself as a mortal is a very curious thing- I haven't seen it since my youth. Oh- you thought I wouldn't notice? Then you don't know me."

Severa stood and allowed the enchantment to slip away, revealing herself with her crown of crystals. "I wasn't wearing it for you," she said easily.

"What are you doing here? What do you want with my son?"

"The same thing you do," she said. "I want him to be safe. I want him to be _well_. He _is_ dying, isn't he?"

The king recognized her voice- though he was _sure_ he had never seen her before. How could that be?

"The prince is being cared for accordingly," he said shortly.

The fairy smiled. "I can help him. I can _save_ him, it will be _your_ decision."

" _What?_ Slow down- I've dealt with fairies in the past, and I know of your tricky nature. What's in it for _you_?"

Severa's smile faltered. "We can make a deal. I will save your son if you call off the Beast hunt."

"If I call off the Beast hunt," the king repeated. "Hmm, interesting. And why would I do that?"

The Enchantress remained composed, though her insides were writhing in hatred for the man. _It is he who is truly the root of all my problems_ , she thought.

"You would be sparing my nephew a horrible fate. He is cursed, you see, and so he and the Beast are one."

"I've heard of the Beast's power," said the king. "And I've received many reports of those who have seen it; it is a destruction of nature and man. That sort of evil cannot exist in my land."

Here, Severa smiled again. "I know what you've dreamed of. You can see his face as clearly as your own. His name is Adrian."

The king didn't know what to say- but something in his head was beginning to come together, like pieces emerging from a fog to be one again...

"You are Severa," said King Peter.

Severa nodded. "So, you remember now?"

"It's taken many years," said the king slowly, "but I remember you. You made me forget something."

"You asked me to," she said. "I only did what you asked. Is it now that you're ready to remember?"

"Get out," King Peter said suddenly. "I can see there is no need to conduct business with you. And watch your back, because my people are ready to go on a hunt to bring justice to this land."

Severa stood, her face pulled tight with rage. "The Beast is mine and I shall protect him with whatever it takes- even if it means _war_ , Peter! When the sun rises you will make your choice. These are my terms: if you allow the Beast hunt to proceed, my nephew and I will be taking the kingdom with blood and magic- and the prince _will_ die."

The king stared at her in a long moment of silence, his mind fighting against something he didn't realize had been there.

 _The raven pommel on the sword... and the boy who yielded it..._

"Give me the serum," said Peter.

Severa gazed at him suspiciously. "If you drink you will remember."

"Give it to me," he repeated.

A slight smile formed on her lips. "Here it is," she said, pulling a small vial from her dress pocket. "You have until sunrise. Oh and by the way- the Necromancer is with me now, in case you were wondering what happened to him. See you soon!"

* * *

The king emerged from his receiving room, visibly shaken up. "Find me the girl- Mary. Find her and bring her to me _at once_ ," he told his messenger.

* * *

Tamsin listened intently as I told of her of the encounter I just had with the stranger. The stranger who had familiar, hazel- YOU DON'T KNOW THIS PERSON!

We were up in my room, far away from any spies or spectators. I wanted to badly to be at Stefan's bedside- but would that only make him vulnerable to even more danger? How could I know, at this point?

"You did the right thing by telling me," Tamsin said carefully. "As far as the necklace goes- well, what did it look like?"

"It had a rose pendant," I said shortly.

"A rose," she repeated aloud, thinking. "I'm trying to remember which house sigil is the rose-"

Just then she was interrupted by a sharp rapping upon the door.

We exchanged nervous glances.

"I'll get it," Tamsin said quickly, jumping up and making her way over to the door.

It was King Peter's page boy. "The king is summoning Mary at once," he said. "Is she in there?"

Tamsin stood back against the door frame, and I stood in complete and utter shock.

* * *

 _What could I have done that he wants to speak with me?_ I wondered as I followed the page boy.

The music from the ballroom faded gently behind us as we walked briskly through the castle halls, our own party of eerie silence.

We traversed a tower and entered a room that overlooked the outer-lying gardens and hedge maze. To my surprise, King Peter dismissed his men and instructed them to wait outside the door. I looked around; this room appeared to be a private study.

The king nodded towards a chair next to the window and near the fire for me to have a seat. I slid over to it quietly and sat up straight and still, waiting for any further indication of why I was there.

"Don't be nervous, child, you are safe here," he said. The king began searching through a deep desk drawer for something. I watched him curiously as he pulled out a sealed envelope and tore it open, taking out its contents: a piece of parchment paper folded up like a letter. The king scanned the message privately, his face unreadable, holding a small vial in his grasp.

After an extended moment, he set the letter down upon his desk and then took the seat opposite of me. "Tell me, Mary, might you have any magic in your blood?"

I stared at him blankly. _What kind of conversation is this going to be?_

"Not that I know of, your majesty," I said.

He twirled the vial in his hand, peering at it oddly. "From what I have heard, you are a remarkable girl."

I blushed. _Heard from whom?_

"I was brought here by your son," I explained carefully, "and he has given me safe haven while I-"

"—try to remember?" he finished.

"Yes," I said honestly, unsure of what he knew of me or how, "something like that."

The king's eyes locked onto mine as he looked at me profoundly. "I know you've forgotten something—something important to you. I know the pain of wonder, and bearing that missing piece inside of you can be most afflictive."

Our eyes were still locked in an odd gaze. "You've forgotten something too?"

"Yes," he responded, "but I _chose_ to do it. It was a curse I placed on myself. You did _not_ choose to forget, and therefore you are the one who deserves this." He revealed the vial to me as it rested in his palm."I've searched for this serum for almost a lifetime. Its power is to conquer such forgetting spells and bring back what was lost."

I looked up at him, startled, my heart beginning to thump.

"But as I said," the king continued, "I made a choice. It's you who must drink today."

The vial was small and delicate in my palm, and the liquid inside amounted to no more than a few drops. It was obviously a rare item, one to treasure or pay a huge price for. And I had nothing to give.

"To remember," I murmured aloud, "could be a curse."

"Oh, no," the king replied immediately, shaking his head vehemently, "to forget will always be the curse. And to forget who you are is the worst of them all."

I could feel in my heart the truth of his words.

So I opened the vial and poured the contents down my throat. And then I felt as if I were falling.

Images rushed through my head like ghosts rising from their graves. I heard the screaming of a boy, and perceived him transforming into a terrible beast. There were warm, loving faces surrounding me—faces of enchantments who did not know they were dead. There was a castle, black and mysterious. Inside was the boy in the demon mask...

 _Who? Who was that?_

The whirring in my mind came to a complete, sudden halt.

 _Adrian._

I returned to full consciousness screaming.


	24. Chapter 24

"Tell me what you remember," said the king.

So I did. From the beginning, when I fled the castle the night of the ball, to the end when Blackhill was attacked by the dead. The king listened in a deep silence as I spoke, and I was unsure of what he wanted to hear or what he was listening for. But it all came back to me, as the contents of the vial had promised. And so I told the king all about Adrian too and his curse.

"Answer one question," said Peter, after everything.

I raised my eyebrows.

"What was the sigil on the pommel of his sword?"

I remembered back to the day of the attack, when we were in Blackhill's library and the staff all appeared together to give Adrian's his father's sword. The one with-

"It was a raven," I recalled.

Peter breathed out heavily through his nose. "I saw him today too. He was the champion of the tourney."

" _What_?"

"If he _is_ the Beast as I've been told, then he is in grave danger."

"We need to find him!" I exclaimed. My heart was breaking as I realized I had _just seen_ Adrian...

"Where did you see him? the king asked.

"He was _here_ ," I said frantically. "Not even an hour ago!" I jumped to my feet, my mind racing.

And then I turned to the king. "He's your son, isn't he? Is that what this is all about?"

I gazed into his hazel eyes- Stefan's eyes, Adrian's eyes.

"It was him," Peter said weakly. "He was what I forgot."

"We need to find him," I said again. "Please- I can help him. I'm _meant_ to!"

Just then a blackbird swooped in from the night and perched itself on the windowsill of the king's study.

"Mary!" It squawked.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, you come at a time I _want_ to see you."

I went to the window and cautiously outstretched my hand. The bird took a few hesitant steps towards me.

"Tell me," I said to the silent spectator, "can you take us to Adrian?"

* * *

Stefan plopped down onto his father's bed in exhaustion, groaning into the pillow like he had once when he was six, though for much a different reason then.

He and Marius had torn his father's quarter's apart looking for the map; it was nowhere to be found. The boys had lost track of time as they searched and the prince's head began to spin.

"I have to stop," he said.

Marius continued to search. "We'll find it," he said with determination.

And to their sudden horror the king himself appeared in the doorway. His mouth hung open as he surveyed the ruins of his room, and then his eyes fell on Stefan.

Stefan froze, Marius froze and for a moment every glanced at each other in confusion.

" _What is the meaning of this?_ "

Stefan jumped up from the bed. "You've hidden the map, father! I know you have!"

"What?!"

"You're keeping it for yourself- I know what you're planning to do- what you've _always_ planned to do. You were going to leave me here and go back to the Land of Magic. Don't deny it!" Stefan was trembling in anger. Marius watched in silent horror.

Peter shook his head slowly. "Is that what this is about? You thought I was going to leave you? I don't even know where the map is! And on top of that- _what are you doing out of your bed_?"

Stefan gazed at his father defiantly. "I'm _leaving_. That's what I'm doing."

"No, you're not," Peter thundered, taking a step towards his son. "You're not leaving again. I won't let you abandon hope."

Stefan breathed in and out deeply, and then glanced at Marius. "Tell him."

Marius turned pale white as he looked at the furious king.

"Stefan took a serum to temporarily heal himself so he could save Mary, but in return the serum guarantees death once the poison reaches his heart, even if it's moving slowly... So..." his voice faltered as the king regarded the prince with dumbfounded shock.

"You lied to me," he said.

Stefan had also gone white as he stared at his father. He swallowed, though his mouth was dry.

The king threw a furious glance at Marius. "And you supplied him the serum, _didn't you_?"

"It was my decision!" Stefan exclaimed. "All my life you've decided everything for me- what I learn, what I do, who I meet-

"I'm choosing this," Stefan said firmly, his voice steady. "It's already done."

Peter grabbed the side of his four poster bed to steady himself. "Stefan... you have a brother. He is in danger. He's- he's counting on _us_..."

Stefan stared at his father in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

The king felt as if he could faint, so he sat down and put his head in his hands. The boys stared at him in silence.

At last the king found the words he was always meant to say.

"When I was your age I went to the Land of Magic and fell in love with a girl. Even though I wanted to stay there with her I knew I had to return here to fulfill my destiny... to rule... but I went back. And when I returned her sister, the Enchantress, told me she had died. But... there was someone else there she did not tell me about. A boy named Adrian. He is my son, and he is your brother. Right now he is in danger."

Stefan and Marius looked at each other in disbelief.

"You have _another_ son?"

"Yes," said Peter. "And today he was crowned champion of the Beast tournament, though he himself is cursed-"

" _What_?"

Peter looked at the prince desperately. "He needs us, Stefan. And we need him. _You can't leave_!"

Stefan took a moment to recover from the news. And then he looked at his father. "You have another son," he repeated. "And so you have an heir... a rightful heir, if what you're telling me is true... so what do you need _me_ for, then?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Peter said angrily. "This isn't about me. He needs our help and we need _him_ \- he can make you better, I know he can-"

The prince shook his head. "I've told you I've made up my mind. Let me go, father. I'm not giving you a choice."

Stefan headed towards the door, but suddenly stopped and faced the king.

"You know, the way I look at it is we're both getting what we want. You have an heir and I'm... well, I'm _free_ ," said Stefan. And he stormed out of his father's quarters and down through the castle, unsure of where he would end up but allowing his feet to take him forward...

 _I'm leaving it behind_ , he thought. _This chapter is over._

* * *

The ill-fated prince threw off his coat as he made his way down to the village, taking the path through the kingswood so no one could track him. Returning to the castle was out of the question now; if Stefan turned back he would never forgive himself.

He headed for the village. He discarded all items of clothing-besides his sword- that distinguished him as royalty. Stefan decided that this was the last night he'd ever be a prince.

The suffering he felt was electrifying. With so much pain driving him towards an inevitable end, he walked among the cobble-stoned streets of the quiet village with nowhere in particular in mind to go. The moon was now peeking out through heavily compressed clouds, lighting many paths that he could follow…but it happened to be a distant sound, musical in nature, that he gravitated towards.

Stefan traversed past the empty houses of the working class while clutching his shoulder in agony, heading towards the center of the village. There seemed to be nowhere else to go. Whatever tune was playing in the distance, he felt that moving towards it decreased the pain he was in.

He stopped in front of a tavern buzzing with villagers who weren't invited to the celebration at the castle. The regular folks. There was no doubt music coming from the inside, wafting into the street like magic. Stefan made his way past the rowdy bunch of drinkers in the doorway and found a lone empty table inside, the rest of the seating filled with people chattering loudly about the earlier tourney. No one would recognize him to be the prince here. He was no longer a prince anyway. All the money he had left fit into his pocket, so he ordered a drink.

"Your father was right," said a voice from beside him.

Stefan had not realized she was there, nor did he know that she was a fairy-though she was _his_ fairy, as he she had once been his father's.

Pandora smiled gently. "Your brother needs you, Stefan."

 _Is this a dream?_ Stefan wondered vaguely.

The fairy looked at the prince with sadness. She stared into his hazel eyes, streaked red with pain.

"I can hear the ocean inside of you," the fairy remarked.

For a moment, Stefan could hear it too. The waves lapped against a sandy shore, tumbling in and out beneath the sun-

"I can feel the yearning in your heart... Keep it there, prince. Keep it there for as long as you can. And remember to protect what matters," she said, though her voice seemed to be falling away from him now.

The prince blinked, and the sound of the ocean vanished. The fairy was gone too- _had she ever been been there, though_?

The tavern had grown louder; someone was giving some sort of speech.

 _Wait,_ Stefan thought... he listened closer.

"-Everyone saw it, he _cheated_ , I tell you-"

It was dear old cousin Gaspard's voice...

"-the coward will pay for this-" he was saying.

Stefan threw a careful glance over his shoulder. From where he was sitting, he could see Gaspard behind him, on the other side of the tavern. A group of men were gathering around him before the fireplace. He was _rallying_ , it appeared...

"You saw it, didn't you?"

Gaspard's voice was getting louder as he addressed his many admirers, his persona taking over the tavern. Stefan hovered over his drink with his back turned, sitting in the shadows.

 _Out of all the places I could've ended up, it just figures that he's here. What is he talking about?_ Stefan wondered vaguely...

By the time he finished his first drink the pain in his body had lost its edge, and the world became mercifully softer. When the barmaid came over to offer him another drink he requested a pencil and some paper.

Soon enough, Gaspard's voice rang out again.

"And am I not the true winner of the tourney? I was cheated by a _coward_!"

The crowd that had gathered around him was getting rowdy and they cheered at his every statement.

Stefan focused on the letter he was writing as he finished his second drink.

"The prize and position is still mine to take!" Gaspard continued loudly, "and take it is what I'll do!"

Carefully, Stefan folded the letter and placed it safely in his pocket. And then he ordered a third drink and tuned in to Gaspard's tirade.

"The tourney is not over! I will claim my prize as soon as I find the thief and take back what is mine. I may just even leave him with a pair of working legs, but I will definitely break both of his arms!"

 _He was crowned champion of the Beast tournament, though he himself is_ cursed... the king's words returned to Stefan's mind as it suddenly dawned on him.

 _Your brother needs you, Stefan..._ the fairy had said.

 _I have a brother?_

"Where do skinny villains go in the night?" Gaspard asked loudly, laughing. "I'm going to find him and beat his pretty little head to a pulp."

The prince stood. He calmly set down his emptied cup.

"I'd bet he's on his way up to the feast by now!" one of the men shouted, sloshing his beer onto the table as he spoke. "Dancing his peacock off with the king!"

Stefan gritted his teeth. Though his pain was dulled, he was now intoxicated by the ale and the adrenaline.

Gaspard stepped forward, raising his fist. "Who will join me? We'll take over the Beast Hunt on our own! I will pay back that cheating coward for taking advantage of the king's favor. If it had been a _real_ fight, he would have had his face in the mud before drawing his sword!"

And it was then Stefan realized he needed to protect his brother.

"You!" Stefan stepped forward, his arm extended as he pointed directly at Gaspard, "Face me!

"I'll fight you," the prince declared, striding over to his cousin with his hand on his sword handle, "and then you can shut your mouth about the winner of the tourney being a cheat. I'll prove that not only he beat you fairly, but that I'll do it as well. And then everyone can see whose peacock will be dancing with the king tonight, as soon as I cut yours off and parade it up there _myself_."

All his life he had wanted to fight Gaspard in a proper fight. Y _ou're a prince_ , his father had told him, _not a reckless lordling..._ But this was it. The time had finally come.

Gaspard narrowed his eyes at the prince as the crowd fell silent at the scene.

"My dear cousin," Gaspard said with a slight smile forming upon his lips. "I thought you were dead?"

Stefan nodded. "Very funny..."

 _It's the prince_ , the crowd murmured in hesitant recognition. Stefan kept his eyes locked on his cousin.

"Yes, yes; it's the _prince_ ," said Gaspard, slamming his mug down on to the nearest table and covering it in ale. He flexed his muscled arms, though they were laid with bruises from a full day of fighting. "And he wants to give us a show! Double feature tonight, boys!"

The crowd parted wide for them as Gaspard kicked the nearest table over, spilling glass and ale out onto the floor. As soon as he pulled his sword from its scabbard Stefan lunged.

It was all the tavern crowd needed to join in on the fun. Knives and forks began to sail through the air as fights sprung up in every corner, Stefan and Gaspard at the center of the calamity clashing steel. Gaspard immediately took the upper hand as he knocked the prince into a cabinet full of glasses, causing his wounded side to receive the shock. Stefan couldn't help but groan in pain-

"I have never lost a fight," Gaspard growled, reaching for Stefan and seizing him painfully by both shoulders, "and no amount of yellow bellied fools will change that!" His head smashed into Stefan's, and the prince was knocked backwards, seeing stars.

Stefan blindly grabbed for a stool as Gaspard lunged in for another blow, and as the meaty fist came sailing his way, he let the stool fly into his wretched cousin's head. The stool broke, and Gaspard was then no better off than the prince himself.

The tavern keeper, a stout man with a scowl on his face, was yelling at the scene before him, standing on top of the bar with his arms flailing about. One of Gaspard's comrades picked the man up and began shaking him. Gaspard spit out a tooth coated in blood and picked his sword up from the floor. Stefan gritted his teeth against the pain coming from his shoulder and reached for his own. He could feel blood gushing from his nose.

The swords clashed against each other furiously. The pair dueled through the bedlam surrounding, overturning tables and chairs in their wake. Stefan fought a nasty fight, but naturally Gaspard performed even nastier. Neither of them even took notice when three kingsmen entered the tavern with swords drawn.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms seized Stefan from behind and pushed him aside. Lance promptly stepped in between him and Gaspard.

"Stop this!" Lance shouted. "If the king finds about this-"

"-then _what_?" Gaspard demanded, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "He's going to arrest us? Stefan _started_ it!"

Stefan placed a trembling hand on his friend's shoulder. "Lance," he said. "I'm dying. Just let me have this one last fight-"

Lance looked at him in disbelief.

Stefan turned to Gaspard. "You won't touch the victor of the tournament. You hear me? You lost, now just _accept_ it or we'll finish this fight once and for all!"

Gaspard seized Stefan's shirt and dragged him forward. "He _cheated_ , cousin. I saw it with my own eyes. He used magic."

The prince shoved Gaspard away from him. "You're out of your mind! This is pathetic!"

The crowd in the tavern was clearing out at the kingsmen's orders. Stefan could see Gaspard's comrades- maybe four or five of them- hovering by the door.

"What do you want us to do?" Lance asked, looking at the prince and waiting for orders.

Stefan shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Ask my father- I'm leaving. But first find Mary and give this to her." Stefan handed the folded letter to Lance.

Lance took the letter, but he stared at the prince in confusion and shock.

Gaspard walked away without a word, laughing. He and his friends disappeared from the tavern and into the night.

"So... what happens now?" Lance asked.

Stefan breathed a heavy, ragged sigh.

 _What happens now?_

It had never been up to him to decide before, he realized. But right then all the arrows pointed in the same direction.

"I'm going to find my brother," said the prince.

* * *

 **End of part 2.**


	25. Chapter 25

The night passed slowly as I awaited word from the king.

 _How could it be taking so long?_ I wondered frantically. _Adrian needs us!_

 _We should be leaving._

The black bird perched upon my window sill, peering at me curiously as I paced the room. Sometime after midnight there was a knock on my door; Tamsin let herself in. She was not smiling.

"What is it?" I asked eagerly.

She was holding a folded letter. "It's for you," she said.

"For me?" I echoed in surprise.

Tamsin held it out for me to take. "Yes, from Stefan. Lance delivered it- he was just out here in the hall a moment ago-"

I took the letter and examined it, opening it carefully. Tamsin stood there in silence, waiting.

My eyes scanned the messy scrawl of words written on the paper. My hands began to tremble as I read it.

 _Dear Mary,_

 _I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you goodbye. In spite of everything what I fear the most is hurting you._

 _And in spite of everything, I swear we will meet again one day._

 _It will be an accident, yeah? A perfect accident._

 _Yours forever,_

 _Stefan_

I folded the letter and put it into my dress pocket.

 _So this is what it feels like to have you heart break_ , I realized painfully.

"Are you okay?" Tamsin asked gently. I had quite forgotten that she was there.

"The- the prince is-"

Tamsin pulled me into a tight hug. "I know," she said. "I know about my cousin. I'm so sorry."

She remained composed but her cheeks were suddenly wet against mine.

"The king has been looking for him all night," Tamsin explained. "But there's been no word besides this letter. I don't think he wants to be found."

 _First I lost Adrian, and then I lost Stefan_ , I thought bitterly. Why couldn't I just lose _myself_?

"Get some sleep," said Tamsin. "I'm going to try to get some too. There will surely be news in the morning."

I waited until she was gone for some time before slipping silently out of my bedroom and making my way down to the garden in the early morning hours.

 _The necklace could still be where I dropped it_ , I thought with a glimmer of hope.

I went to the place where Adrian had found me in the garden and got on my hands and knees, desperately feeling through the grass for it. The grass was moist with dew and it chilled my fingers numb as I searched. Of course- there was no trace of it.

"What are you looking for?" said a voice from the darkness.

I wiped my hands down my dress and stood, squinting at the figure coming towards me. It was Marius.

"Something I need," I said.

Marius sat down on the bench beside the hedge and sighed. "I want to apologize for my anger towards you," he said. "It was misplaced."

I gave up my search and took the seat next to him. "It's fine," I said. "It doesn't matter anymore, as now I can remember what I had forgotten. And now I know for _sure_ it's my fault Stefan is gone."

"You remember?"

"Yes," I said. "With the king's help."

"So why did you do it? Why did you go after the Beast that day in the wood instead of coming back with us?"

"It wasn't the Beast I went after," I said. "It was a boy named Adrian. He's Stefan's brother."

"He's- he's the _Beast_?"

"He's cursed," I said. "By an evil fairy named Severa. It's a long story..."

We fell into a strange silence.

"Did you really love him?" Marius finally asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Who?"

" _Stefan_."

I exhaled shakily. "I told you I did."

"But you love another," said Marius.

"How would you know?" I asked testily.

"Because I saw it that day in the wild forest. You chose him. That's what love is."

"And you chose Stefan," I countered.

"Yes," Marius said simply.

"Then what are you doing _here_?"

"What do you mean?"

I looked at Marius incredulously. "You love Stefan and you're just going to let him go? Just like that?"

Marius stared at me. "You do understand where he's going, don't you?"

"If you love him then you should follow him to the end. I know I wouldn't want to be alone."

Marius looked away as if he were embarrassed.

The sky was beginning to lighten in the early morning twilight.

"And so the Hunt begins," he remarked as we looked into the sky.

I stood. "Go to Stefan," I said. "I'm going to find the king and we're going to save Adrian."

It seemed like he wanted to smile but it was repressed in the hanging uncertainty of fate.

"Good luck, Mary," he said.

We parted ways, and after failing at finding the necklace, I knew the next logical step was to find the king and urge him to act immediately; every passing hour Adrian fell deeper into certain danger with the Hunt having begun.

* * *

The Enchantress and the Necromancer observed the kingdom from the clock tower's balcony in the heart of the city. The royal castle loomed over them in the rising sun.

Facing the king's wood, the city gates were wide open as men rode out on their horses prepared for the hunt.

"It's time," Severa declared, watching them go with furiously narrowed eyes. "You will go after my nephew," she directed the Necromancer. "Let no one lay a hand on him, and then subdue him yourself and deliver him here. You know where and how to find him."

"And what will you do?" The Necromancer shot back.

Severa nodded towards the castle. "I'm claiming my throne."

The Necromancer raised a dubious eyebrow. "I thought the throne belonged to your nephew."

She stared daggers at him. "My nephew has _gone off the deep end_! Now get to work!"

* * *

King Peter returned to the castle just before sunrise. Stefan had disappeared from everyone's sight, and he was adamant on not being found. The king was forced to give up his chase.

 _For now_ , he thought. But deep inside Peter wasn't so sure. He was feeling weaker with each passing hour- helpless in a way he had never felt before, or at least, _could remember feeling_.

He entered his private quarters, locked the door behind him and promptly attacked his breakfast table, covered in clean dishes and glassware, showering the floor with shattered glass and china. He screamed out loud, straining his vocal cords until he could feel his hot blood rushing through the veins in his face.

"It's all fallen apart," he whispered despairingly, believing that he was alone.

But his fairy godmother watched him from the shadows; Pandora had not seen Peter since he was much younger since Severa had imprisoned her for years.

"Peter," she said gently.

The king turned in shock and regarded the fairy he once knew with disbelief.

"Yes," she said reassuringly, allowing her inner light to glow around her as she stepped forward, "it is me."

"Pandora," he said. "Have you come to save my son?"

"The Beast hunt has begun," she said. "The hour is late. Severa is on her way here now."

Peter's eyes widened. "How long do I have?"

Pandora looked at him sadly. "She is _there_." She pointed out the window.

With no hesitance he followed her gaze to the window and looked out. From where he was Peter could see into the courtyard below where the Enchantress stood alone.

 _Where are my guards?_ Peter thought frantically.

"I cannot stop her from doing what she is about to do," said Pandora. 'But there is someone else who can. I will lead him here."

"Adrian," Peter said. "My son has magical blood?"

Pandora nodded. "Your son is the true heir to the two kingdoms of the world: the land of magic and land of men. He alone can defeat Severa."

Down in the courtyard Severa watched the fear pass over Peter's face with a satisfied smile.

"You refused my deal," the Enchantress said aloud; her voice rang up into the air and the king himself could hear it clearly. "And so I have come to fulfill my promise, and your kingdom will be cast into an impenetrable shadow."

He watched as she drew a short staff out of her robes and held it aloft into the sky. Attached to the top was a rounded crystal that glimmered in the morning sun. He watched as her lips moved and she uttered words he could not hear, though he could imagine what they would invoke. Behind him, Pandora lowered her head sadly and vanished from the castle and into the unknown. Severa smiled a wicked smile as a sharp breeze flooded into the courtyard, whipping her robes around, her dark hair flailing beneath her crown. The sun's light faded and darkness stretched over the castle like a blanket. And with the darkness came a feeling he could not resist; the king was suddenly quite _tired_.

* * *

When I returned to my room the sun was rising in the sky and the black bird waited for me upon the windowsill. It paced nervously, its wings twitching.

"Attack! Attack!" It said harshly.

"What?"

I moved over to the window and allowed the bird to climb onto my arm. "Attack!" it shrieked again.

As it said this the sky outside began to suddenly darken.

 _This is unnatural_ , I thought as I peered into the sky. Suddenly, the bird took off through the window and I watched in horror as its wings flailed and faltered, and instead of alighting into the sky, the bird seemed to suddenly lose consciousness and it began to fall.

The bird landed upon the steps of the garden terrace below; it appeared to be dead.

I screamed.

And then I thought- _am I dying?_

 _The world is darkening, and I feel so... so tired._

I could feel my feet stumbling away from the window, carrying me desperately over to the bed where I knew I would succumb to whatever was befalling me.

The bed was soft, like no other thing. My body positively sunk into it. I reached into my pocket and brought out Stefan's letter.

 _I'm not dreaming_ , I confirmed. _At least not yet..._

The room was dark again, darker than the night had ever been. It didn't matter whether or not I closed my eyes.

It consumed me and I knew no more.


	26. Chapter 26

As a mysterious and sinister shadow stretched over the city, casting Peter's kingdom and castle into darkness, the howl of the Beast rang out from somewhere in the wild forest.

Gaspard had spent the nightly hours rounding up a mob; they alone would kill the Beast- and if anyone tried to get in their way, anything was fair game. There was a visceral thirst for blood ruminating in the atmosphere and no one who had pursued the hunt had any knowledge that their kingdom had fallen into a shadow.

The Beast's demonic scream echoed out and above the trees; _Come on_ , it seemed to say. _Come find me._

* * *

Stefan opened his eyes to a strange, blurry world. A comforting warmth was spreading through his body and he became aware of the pain that had put him out; it was now ebbing away slowly, his strength rushing back into his arms and legs. He took a deep breath and sat up.

Marius and Lance looked down upon him; they appeared to be somewhere in the wild forest, where the thick oak moss hung in the cool morning sun.

"What happened?" Stefan asked.

Marius and Lance exchanged glances.

"It was a long night," said Lance. "What can you remember?"

The prince thought for a moment, and then smiled. "I remember breaking a stool over Gaspard's face."

The boys erupted in laughter.

"Good enough for me," said Lance. "But you demanded we come here and you've been in and out of consciousness."

Marius held up a small vial. "I don't have many more of these," he explained. "So tell us what the plan is."

"Do we have horses?" Stefan asked, standing up and shaking leaves off him.

"We have horses and all the supplies you ordered for the hunt," Lance replied. "Though the hunt has already begun."

Stefan furrowed his brow. "That means Gaspard has had a head-start. _Damn him!_ "

"Why are we going after Gaspard?" Marius asked as they packed up their small camp and began to ready the horses.

"Because he's going after my brother," said the prince. "And we're going to stop him."

"So it's true, then," said Lance. "The king has another son?"

Stefan nodded as he steadily mounted his horse, gripping the reins tightly. He slipped on his riding gloves. "Prepare your bows," he told them. "Once we pick up on their trail it will turn into a fight. And if they're anywhere near the Beast then everyone will be in danger."

"The Beast is your brother," said Marius.

Lance cast a confused glance at the prince.

Stefan nodded again. "We have a big problem on our hands. I hope you guys understand the peril you are putting yourselves in before you come with me."

"Shut up, Stefan," Marius remarked.

They set off through the wood without another wasted moment.

* * *

The Beast bounded through the wild forest, running against the autumn wind with the power and strength of five horses. He was aware of the men who followed him; his sensitive ears could hear nearly half a mile away, and his heightened vision and smell allowed him full surveillance of his surroundings. There was no way Gaspard and his men would catch up to him unless he allowed them to; the Beast would outrun them- but that was not his goal. This was the Beast's trap, this was his plan to draw Severa out, to challenge her in the ultimate stand-off. Would she show? Or would she allow him to be killed by the hunters?

What the Beast did not realize was that Severa had already laid her own trap, and so the task to meet the Beast in the forest had been given to another-

the _Necromancer_ , of course.

And so from a top of a distant hill the Necromancer looked upon the wild forest. Laid out before him were many different paths: the Beast, the hunters, and the damned prince. They were all running to their death.

 _"_ Um, h-hello," said a voice from beside him.

It was the shape-changing elf, Riss. He was occupying his "old man" disguise. Lord Terrowin raised an eyebrow. "Where have you been?"

Riss threw him a reproachful glance. "I was following the girl. The brat prince has her under his protection, however."

"Not anymore," said the Necromancer, "the brat prince is dying now and the girl is under Severa's spell. I assume she sent you here to _help_?"

Riss nodded.

"Do what you can to lour the Beast to Blackhill. I can hold off the others and meet you there. Severa wants her nephew returned to her."

Riss grinned.

"The Beast is moving in a spiral formation," The Necromancer noted as he watched from his elevated perch among the rocky cliffs overlooking the forest. "He intends to be found sooner than later."

Riss nodded and flexed his long, dark wings.

"You must get to him first and lead him back to Blackhill."

"And what will _you_ do?"

Lord Terrowin smiled. "I'll take care of the rest."

* * *

The Beast could hear his pursuers well now; they did nothing to conceal their voices. He would only have to hold them off long enough to make sure there would be enough witnesses. If they could see him transform back into himself then they would know the truth. Everyone would know the truth.

Or they would just kill him.

" _Adrian_ …."

The Beast skidded to a sudden stop—he was sure he had heard it true: someone had said his name.

He scanned the wood around him, from the pillars of sunlight falling through the trees to the shadows that accompanied them. No one was there.

 _No one knows you_ , he reminded himself bitterly. _Not anymore_.

Just ahead of him was an unusual clearing in the wood—a small meadow, strangely familiar. The Beast ventured forth.

 _I've been here before_ , he realized. Not so long ago.

And then he saw her again—just as he had before—standing there in the center.

 _Belle_ , he thought with a mixture of confusion and elation.

She was not drenched in rain and blood this time, in fact the sunlight fell upon her as if she were in a painting. She smiled.

 _What are you doing_? The Beast thought. _How did you get here?_

But time was now moving impossibly fast—the voices that had been following him were dangerously close, mere moments away. The rattle of armor and weaponry accompanied the shouts, along with the howling of dogs and whinnying of horses. The hunt was at his heels.

Mary lingered for a moment before turning, and then she dashed into the thick of the forest. The Beast watched incredulously.

"There it is!" came a triumphant shout.

Gaspard and his party poured into the clearing brandishing swords, arrows, and nets. The Beast perceived him with surprise— _not this guy_ , he thought. _The one who plays dirty._

Mary was gone now, though, and inexplicably so— _she was just here, wasn't she_?!

As the Beast was caught up in his confusion, Gaspard seized the moment and flung a tied rope towards him. It caught against the Beast's haunches and pulled tight.

"I got him, lads!" Gaspard announced, seizing the rope with leather-gloved hands. Gaspard's men encircled the Beast with their weapons drawn.

The Beast howled with frustration. _No… I need to get to Belle_!

From the opposite end of the clearing Stefan and his company burst into view.

"Stop!" the prince yelled at Gaspard. Marius, Lance and the others leapt off their horses and charged toward Gaspard's men with their weapons out.

Gaspard sneered in their direction. "You're not taking credit for this you _damn fool_!"

And at that moment, an arrow whizzed out from yet another direction from the forest and into the clearing, hitting Gaspard straight in his chest.

It didn't come from Stefan's crew, nor did it come from his own. The Necromancer stepped into the clearing, another arrow knocked and ready to go.

Stefan froze as he watched Lord Terrowin approach, his heart beating hard.

 _It's him_ , he realized in cold horror.

The prince didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't care as he drew his sword and walked straight towards the Necromancer, whose eyes were fixed on Gaspard and the Beast.

"No!" Marius yelled, seizing Stefan around his chest and pulling him back. "It's not worth it and you know it!"

Stefan turned furiously to his friend. " _He's the one that did this to me_! Don't you understand? He _deserves_ to die!"

Lord Terrowin threw the prince a bemused glance with a raised eyebrow. " _You're_ still alive?"

Gaspard had fallen and let go of the rope, and so at that moment the Beast broke free and took off into the wood before anyone could intervene.

Stefan tore his eyes away from the Necromancer… time was moving so, so quickly now and he had to decide: the Necromancer, or the Beast?

Marius placed his hands on the prince's shoulders. "We will take care of this. Trust us. Now _go_."

Gaspard's men were divided between his limp body on the ground and the approaching foe. All eyes were now on the Necromancer. He did not appear afraid to be outnumbered—in fact, he slowly and calmly set down his bow and drew a whip from his robe. As he muttered a soft incantation, the whip set alight with fire.

"Go!" Marius exclaimed, shoving Stefan forcefully away from the scene.

The prince stumbled into the thick of the wood, stringing his horse along behind him. Around him were the gnarled trees that grew so closely together it was difficult to navigate without a path.

 _But there is a path_ … he realized.

The Beast had left one for him to follow. It was where the forest floor was disheveled and disturbed, where broken branches and trampled plants carved a haphazard road. And so Stefan mounted his horse and ventured upon the path, leaving the sound of the battle behind him.

* * *

Adrian collapsed onto the steps of Blackhill, returning to his natural form—though this was getting harder, and it exhausted him now in a way it had never done before.

Belle had led him here; he was sure of it. Everything was going to be _okay_.

He gathered his strength and stumbled into the shadowy entry hall of the castle.

"Belle!" he cried into the darkness. His voice echoed, eventually settling into silence.

"It's me!" he called again, though he did not know why he felt unsure. "It's safe!"

 _Where is everyone_? There was no sign of Martha, or even Clarkson…

He stepped further into the hall, into the castle that had been his home for years but just then felt cold and unfamiliar. Adrian left the door open behind him so the high-morning sun streamed in.

"I'm here," said the voice from the forest.

She was standing at the top of the stairs, enshrouded in shadow.

Adrian stepped forward, leaving the sunlight behind him. He gazed at her silhouette with uncertainty.

"I've been so scared…" she said, her soft voice faltering.

"You were cursed," Adrian remarked hesitantly. "You didn't know me…"

She took a step down. "I _do_ know you. I remember everything now."

"What happened?" Adrian asked, taking a step up. "Does Severa know you're here?"

She took another step down. "Yes, she knows."

Adrian's heart skipped a beat. His mother's necklace now hung around his own neck. He fingered the chain carefully. "Belle… tell me what's happened. Are you… _okay_?"

"Come closer. I feel weak."

He met her halfway, just as her knees seemed to give out, and caught her in his arms. She was cold to the touch.

"You're freezing," he remarked. "You need the sunlight."

Adrian picked her up and brought her down to the foot of the stairs. "Martha! Clarkson!" He called out, hoping someone would answer his call.

"They're not here anymore," she said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"The Enchantress said it's what you wanted. That all traces of her world fade forever. So she took them back to the land of magic."

Adrian gazed at her incredulously. "Something is wrong," he said. "Belle—what did she do to you?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "She made me a promise."

"Her promises are _poison_!"

"You betrayed her. You conspired against her. Even now you defy her—but she is pleased that you found me. Now I can fulfill my end of the promise."

Adrian took a step backwards, his mind racing. Belle was smiling—no, that wasn't a true smile. It was… something else. And before he could stop her, she reached out and grabbed his wrist.

A silver chain materialized from the darkness and wrapped itself tightly around his wrist, snaking its way around his hands and binding his arms together.

His first reaction was to transform into the Beast to break his binds—nothing was as strong as the Beast. But he immediately realized he was unable to change.

" _What have you done_!"

Belle laughed. "I already told you; I made a promise to the Enchantress in return for my life. She has instructed me to give you the terms—er, hang on a second, this façade is terribly uncomfortable-"

The image of Belle melted away before his eyes, and was replaced with the form of some kind of elf—a dark elf with protruding, golden eyes and wings that burst from its back. It was grotesque and all too familiar.

"Recognize me now?" Riss said with a vile grin. "Anyway—here are the terms: you are bound with magic. So long as you are bound, you have no ability to turn into the Beast. Your binds are impossible to break on your own—you'd have to get someone else to do it. And, the Enchantress is obligated to inform you as I am obligated to convey, whoever tries to break your bonds will fulfill their own death sentence. You will transform back into the Beast—only for forever. And their blood will be on your hands."

Adrian was barely listening: he concentrated, harder than ever before, to awaken every fiber of magic in his body. His attempt was met with pain—pain so blinding, he stumbled and landed on his knees.

Riss stood over him and tutted pitifully. "Your struggling only makes it worse, you know."

How did it come to this? How did Severa come out on top every time—he had been so close. So close to exposing her lies, her murderous plot, her lifetime of sins. He was going to meet his father, save his family, save the kingdom, save Belle…

The pain radiated through him like crashing waves—one after another, after another—he could not physically stop himself from resisting his binds.

The dark elf flexed his wings, spreading them out widely. "Your instructions are to stay here—and stay out of trouble. Once I inform the queen that you have been successfully bound, guess what she's going to do?"

Adrian looked up at Riss, his body trembling with the struggle, the pain. He gritted his teeth hard.

Riss looked down at him with mild amusement. "She's going to kill the girl."

Then he threw his head back and laughed—a sound of pure malice, pure hate. It filled the space of the entry hall and echoed throughout the castle.

But suddenly it was replaced with the sound of pain—a howl, a shriek, a scream of anguish like no other—as a sword ripped through one of the dark elf's wings from behind, severing it cleanly. The wing twitched wildly before falling to the ground in a spray of blood. Riss turned in rage and agony to face Stefan.

The prince watched as Riss's face twisted in a rage and lunged toward him—but he was off balance, and in one swift motion Stefan sent the sword through his other wing. This time it made a grotesque ripping sound as blood poured down the elf's arms and back.

At that moment Adrian lunged forward, using his bound wrists to trip the elf and send him falling to the floor. Riss screamed in pain as Adrian crawled on top of him and placed his hands around his throat. In a few short moments the elf was gone from the world and all was dead silent.

Finally Adrian looked up at the prince. "Who… are you?"

Stefan reached his hand out to help Adrian to his feet. "My name is Stefan. I'm your brother."


	27. A note from the author to the readers

Hey readers

First of all let me apologize for not updating this story in FOREVER! There are so many things I am proud of with this story, but I have reached a critical point in the plot where I have realized the story is flawed and I don't know how to fix it from here without going back and making the changes I think are necessary. Mainly the relationship between Mary and Adrian. I am not happy with my eagerness to let them fall in love so quickly. I don't think it suits the story and I want to change it. I am sorry for the confusion or if my story comes off as disjointed or poorly written at times. I am working on it separately to make it how I want it and a better story in general. For what if left of this version, the Remastered version, I will continue with to the best of my ability and work towards the ending I had in mind.

But this is no longer the official Remastered version, as it is a work in progress and I will eventually be posting the best version of this story once I have completed it and am satisfied with all aspects. Thanks for your support and interest. Please leave honest feedback where you see fit, as it helps motivate my writing.


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